


Jewels of Orzammar

by paragonbrosca



Series: Dragon Age: Jewels of Orzammar [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Gen, Mentions of Prostitution, Mentions of alcoholism, Mild Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2017-12-25 02:56:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paragonbrosca/pseuds/paragonbrosca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gemma Aeducan and Naia Brosca couldn't be more different. The kind-hearted princess of Orzammar, and the bitter thug with little to lose have only one thing in common: they are both about to die.<br/>Unless, of course, they can escape the death sentences on their heads, survive a possibly deadly ritual, become Grey Wardens, unite the country, and defeat an archdemon.<br/>When it comes right down to it, they might not be so different after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Exile

**Author's Note:**

> Anything you recognize (and possibly a few things you don't) belongs to Bioware. I am just a fan playing in their sandbox. I am not making any profit or receiving any benefit from this work of fanfiction.
> 
> Also, warning that the pairings included will change throughout the story and will not necessarily remain together at the end.
> 
> Thanks much for reading, and feel free to contact me if you wish!

The damp air of the Deep Roads pressed down around her. Her armored boots pounded the stone; the straps of her chest plate rubbed and chafed her sweating shoulders. Liquid dripped from her forehead, and she was no longer sure if it was sweat or blood that fell dangerously close to her eyes. She prayed to every Ancestor that if it was blood, it was her own, and not the tainted blood of a darkspawn. She couldn’t succumb to that. Not while she still had a chance of finding the Grey Wardens.

According to Gorim, her one loyal friend, the Grey Warden Commander she’d been introduced to only a week before was still down in the Deep Roads with his companions. They were her only hope of getting out alive. She would not be corrupted. She was an heir to House Aeducan, and she would not die like this. She just had to find them.

Gemma heard the harsh roar of a hurlock before she saw it. She whirled in the direction of the sound, and was rewarded with a wet thud and another, more pained roar as she buried her axe in the darkspawn’s chest. Without a pause, she wrenched her weapon free, kicked the creature’s legs out from beneath it, and continued her maddened race down the corridor.

Around every corner, she seemed to find more darkspawn. She killed the ones she had to, and evaded as many as she could, disappearing into crevices and side-passages too small for the monsters to fit through. She didn’t stop to think about how long she could keep this up, or what would happen when her store of adrenaline had finally been exhausted. She thought of nothing but the feel of the stone beneath her feet and the sounds carried in the air as it rushed past her ears. She almost always heard any attackers before she saw them, as her torch had long since burned out and the faint glow of lyrium in the walls only went so far towards illuminating the dark tunnels.

Gemma slammed her shoulder into the wall as she rounded a sharp corner. She stumbled, and crashed to the ground, smacking her forehead into a stone. What vision she had went blurry, and as she struggled to lift her head, she was struck blind by the sudden appearance of a bright, steady light. For a moment, she could see a group of shadowed figures approaching, and then there was nothing at all.

~

“Another dwarf? Haven’t we got enough of the little buggers hanging around, Duncan?”

“Hey! Shut your trap, surface rat!”

“Ow! Andraste’s tits, shorty, you don’t have to kick so hard! I’m only joking!”

“Hush, both of you. Our guest is waking up.” The third voice sounded far less painfully harsh in Gemma’s sore head. She forced her heavy eyelids open and found herself staring into a vaguely familiar bearded face.

“G’morning?” She mumbled thickly, and then winced at the sound of her own voice.

The man gazing down at her and chuckled softly. “Good morning indeed, my friend. You put up quite an impressive fight to make it here.”

“Did I?”

“You certainly did. Do you remember me? We met briefly not long ago. My name is Duncan.”

Duncan. Gemma tried to marshal her scrambled thoughts into something that made some semblance of sense. She remembered a bearded human warrior greeting her before the Proving that had gone so disastrously wrong, only a week before. She remembered the feast that followed, Bhelen, Trian...Bhelen. A searing heat surged through her, accompanied by a sudden burst of energy and she sat up quickly, propelled by rage. “Bhelen!”

The man called Duncan got out of the way quickly enough to avoid bashing their heads together as she rose, and he placed his hand on her shoulder to steady her as her head swam from the sudden position change. “Your brother isn’t here, Gemma.”

“Wait. Gemma? Gemma Aeducan? That’s just perfect.” One of the voices from before spoke again. This time, Gemma could see the person it belonged to. She was another dwarf; wiry and muscular, wearing battered leather armor and a dirty iron helm. Her face bore a surly expression and a casteless brand.

Duncan turned to look at her and the three men she stood with. “If I am not mistaken, she is Aeducan no longer. But yes, you are correct.”

The dwarven woman looked disgusted. “We’ve been hanging around here risking our lives for an Aeducan? And me risking my neck dragging her back here...ugh.”

“Peace, Naia. If we had left her, she would have died.”

“So she would have died. What’s it to me?”

Duncan’s voice grew firm. “It would have been much to me.”

Naia made a dismissive gesture. “Bah. Fawn over her Highness if you want. I’ll be watching for darkspawn if you need me.” She turned and stormed away.  
One of the men behind Duncan shook his head. “Been with us barely more’n a week and she thinks she runs this little operation.”

Duncan held up a hand for silence. “I apologize for all the fuss, Gemma. My companions grow restless staying in one place, and with good reason. Darkspawn will be drawn to us here. But how are you feeling?”

Gemma blinked at him, still trying to gather her thoughts and process what had happened. “I’m not dead.”

“You certainly are not.” Duncan smiled.

“Am I tainted?”

“Miraculously, no. You appear to have escaped corruption thus far.”

“Thank the Stone.” Gemma leaned back and nearly fell flat, only to be caught by Duncan.

“Do you remember how you got here?”

“I…yes. I remember.” Her voice hardened as she thought about Bhelen, who had set her up to take the fall for their brother Trian’s death. She would not have thought her father would believe him, but when both of her scouts had claimed that she had ordered them to attack Trian and his men, King Endrin had had no choice but to send his only daughter to be sentenced by the Assembly. And the Assembly, it was clear, had been in Bhelen’s pocket. Only Gorim had stood by her. Poor, loyal Gorim, who had come to bid her farewell and give her one tiny piece of hope in the shape of news of the Grey Wardens. Gemma found herself fighting back tears, and angrily rubbed at her eyes.

Duncan looked sympathetic. “I am sorry for all you have endured, Gemma. But you are here now. You will be safe with us.”

“Safe? We’re in the Deep Roads! Darkspawn will be all over us!”

“We will be at the surface before another day has passed, my friend. Do not fear. Are you hungry?”

She composed herself, and tried for a small smile. “Starving.”

~

Naia had positioned herself on a ledge near the mouth of the tunnel leading to the cave where the Grey Wardens were camped. She alternated between tossing small stones against the wall and fidgeting with her axe as she kept her eyes trained ahead, searching for any sign of darkspawn in the dim light. From behind her, inside the cave, she could hear the low murmur of voices, and if she turned her head, see the white light coming from the tip of Marin’s staff.

Gemma Aeducan. Of all the people who could have stumbled out of that tunnel, bloody and beaten, Orzammar’s favorite daughter was about the last one Naia would have expected to see. She wondered briefly what could have brought the Princess here, so far into the Roads. An expedition gone wrong, perhaps? She sighed and shook her head. She just hoped Duncan could get the noble back to Orzammar quickly so they could be on their way.

Footsteps crunched on the ground below. Naia tensed, ready to spring, searching for the source. A tall, shadowed figure waved at her from below. “For once you are taller’n me, dwarf. May I come up?”

She relaxed. “What do you want, Evric?”

“To stand guard with you, obviously. May I come up?”

“If you must.”

The Warden scaled the wall below Naia’s ledge with surprising ease and settled himself at her side, folding his long legs underneath him. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, wondering at his purpose for joining her. Did the noble girl make him uncomfortable too, or had Duncan sent him to make sure she didn’t run off?

“You don’t seem real happy about our new companion.”

Naia snorted. “Are we all getting dragged along when he escorts her back to her royal kin?”

Evric looked surprised. “She’s not going back. She’s been exiled. Duncan says she’s to be one of us now.”

Naia nearly dropped her axe. “What?”

The man stared openly into her shocked face. “You heard me. You’ve got a fellow recruit now.”

“Her? She’s a noble! We can’t trust her!”

It was Evric’s turn to snort. “But we can trust you? You’re a thug, aren’t’cha?.”

“And I’m still less underhanded than any of them! You topsiders don’t understand. Not a single one of them cares one bit what happens to me, or you, or anyone else outside of the Diamond Quarter. All they think about are their parties and plots.”

“Spent a lot of time with them, have you? And here I thought you were a common thug in your past life.”

Naia rolled her eyes. “Not me. My sister.”

“You have a noble sister? Then what were you doing in the slums?”

“Will you shut up? She isn’t noble, she hunts nobles. Looking for a wealthy…patron.” Naia turned her weapon over and over in her hands.

“Your sister’s a whore?”

Naia reacted without thinking, taking a swing at him with her axe still in her hand. He caught her arm and twisted the weapon out of her grip. Their eyes met, alike in outrage.

“You could have taken my head off!” Evric hissed, fighting to keep his voice low.

“Don’t you dare, you sod. My Rica is worth ten of you.”

They glared at each other for another long minute. Then the man’s face softened, and he shook his head wryly. “I’m sure she is, shorty. My apologies. I really didn’t mean it as a slur on your sister. It’s a perfectly legitimate profession, especially coming from a family like yours or mine.” He held her axe out to her, hilt first.

She took it, and set it aside. “It’s the only way out of Dust Town. If she gives a nobleman a son, the baby will be a noble too, and Rica will get to raise him in the Diamond Quarter. Maybe even take our mother with her. Anyway, she’s the one who told me what they’re like. The nobles, I mean. Our boss used to get her all dressed up and send her to wait outside the halls where the nobles partied, hoping she’d attract a man’s attention.”

“And did she?”

Naia nodded slowly. “Several times. Never bore a child, but sometimes she’d come home bearing…other marks from her ‘noble’ patrons.”

Evric whistled. “No wonder you hate them.”

Naia nodded, not wanting to speak any more on the topic.

“Still, the girl doesn’t seem half bad. Duncan says her family cast her out. She was sentenced to death here in the Deep. Guess she found us instead.”

“What did she do, then?”

“I’m not sure. Guess it had to be something pretty awful, to get her thrown in this pit.”

Naia held her hand out, gesturing for him to be silent. More footsteps below. The pair leaned forward to see Duncan looking up at them.

“Evric, Naia. We’re ready to move. We return to the surface tonight.”

Evric jumped down from the ledge, and then turned, grinning, and held out his arms. Naia made a rude gesture at him before making the leap herself. “What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go see the sky.”

~

The Warden mage, Marin, was a good healer. Within an hour of her arrival, he had Gemma feeling ten times better. Of course, that probably also had something to do with the bread and water the Wardens had given her. The bread was dry and tasteless, and the water warm and stale, but Gemma thought it was easily the best meal she had ever eaten.

The Wardens had been kind to her, with the exception of the casteless girl. None had pressed her for details of her exile to the Deep Roads, though it was clear the she would have to explain herself to them at some point. Marin healed her and he and the others allowed her to sit in silence with her thoughts. When Duncan declared that she would be traveling with them to the surface, none argued, though one man said something about needing to speak to “our other dwarf” and slipped off.

Now Duncan returned with the missing man and the other dwarven girl at his side. The girl stiffened visibly as she caught sight of Gemma, and Duncan placed a hand on her shoulder. 

“Naia, this is Gemma Aeducan. She will be joining us on our journey. Gemma, this is Naia Brosca, your fellow recruit.”

Naia looked mutinous, but simply muttered “Hello, Aeducan.”

Gemma found she couldn’t really muster up the energy to care what this girl thought of her. “I am not Aeducan anymore. I’m as casteless as you are.”

The other dwarf looked even angrier. “Whatever you say, Princess.”

Duncan’s hand tightened on her shoulder. “Enough, Naia. We are all Grey Wardens here—or will be soon enough—and Wardens do not dwell on their pasts.”

Naia turned her glare on him. “Yes sir.”

The eldest Warden sighed. “Come on then, all of you. I daresay we’ve all had enough of the Deep Roads to last us a long time.”

The five of them gathered their few belongings, rolling up blankets and slinging packs over their backs. Gemma, who had nothing but her axe and the battered armor she wore, watched the others, and contemplated the fact that her fate was now bound to theirs. She could never go home to Orzammar. She would never see her father or Gorim or dear old Lord Harrowmont again. Her family and household would believe her dead, or worse. And Bhelen…Bhelen would likely be named heir. She felt sick.

The small company encountered little trouble for the rest of the day. A few scattered darkspawn crossed their path and were easily slain. Naia walked mostly at Evric’s side, keeping as far away from Gemma Aeducan as she could manage. She knew Duncan noticed. She could feel him watching her delicate dance around the other dwarf, her care to avoid meeting eyes whenever Gemma looked her way.

For her part, once she had calmed down a bit, Gemma was curious about casteless girl. She had of course been kept away from the casteless her entire life, and taught that every one of them was a lowlife and a criminal. In truth, she’d never really thought much about them. A few of the children of noble houses close to her age talked a lot about rights and liberation for the casteless. Gemma had casually agreed with them, but the situation had always seemed so far removed from her life in the Diamond Quarter.

In what she was already beginning to think of as her “previous life”, Gemma’s only experience with casteless dwarves had been with the so-called noble hunters, who spent their time attempting to ensnare nobles and thus move up in the world the only way possible. These were mostly women hoping to bear sons to noblemen, but there were always a few male noble hunters, looking for highborn women of childbearing age. Gemma had been propositioned a few times, but the men who tried were always disappointed. She felt sorry for them, but had no interest in bearing children. Besides, if a noblewoman bore a son rather than a daughter to a casteless man, that son would also be casteless, and would be abandoned by the woman’s family. Gemma had never much cared for those odds.

Naia was clearly different from any of the noble hunters Gemma had encountered. Most of the women shied away from her if she approached or attempted to talk to them, while most of the men resorted to thinly veiled innuendos and simpering flattery. Naia was anything but submissive. She was angry and bitter, but seemed very competent. The treacherous footing in the Deep Roads didn’t seem to bother her at all, and the few times they encountered small bands of darkspawn, Naia held her own among the Wardens. Once, Gemma turned to engage a creature she’d heard come up behind her, just in time to see it fall with Naia’s axe in its neck. After the brief fight, Gemma attempted to compliment the other girl’s skill. Naia looked surprised for a second, and then nodded sharply. “Right. Thanks.”

Thinking this might be a good time to try bridging the gap between them, Gemma pressed on. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“In the carta.”

“The…oh. So you were…”

“One of those lowlife casteless criminals you’ve been taught about? Yeah.” Surprisingly, Naia looked vaguely amused.

“No that’s not…I mean…I kind of thought that was an excuse. To keep things the way they’ve always been, I mean.” Gemma had rarely felt this awkward.

Naia shrugged. “It’s an excuse you made true. Spend enough time treating someone like a criminal, eventually it’ll be their only option.”

“That’s what my brother used to say.” She said it without thinking, and regretted it a moment later. Bhelen had always been more sympathetic towards the casteless, but everyone had always dismissed this as being a result of how much he enjoyed the company of noble hunters. She shook her head, disgusted with herself for bringing him up. She didn’t want to think about her treacherous brother.

“One of your brothers said that? Really?”

“Yeah. But I don’t want to talk about him. Please.”

At this, Naia seemed to close up again. “Suit yourself, Princess.”

Luckily, a shout from one of the Wardens interrupted Gemma’s retort. “Is everyone ready to get outside?”

Gemma felt an unexpected lurch of excitement and terror at the prospect, and she glanced over at Naia. The other girl’s expression remained stony, but her hands, clenched into fists at her sides, were trembling slightly. They stared at each other for a moment, neither wanting to take the next step forward.

Finally, Naia loosened her fists and cracked her knuckles. “I bet it’s not nearly as big as the stories say. Bring it on.” With that, she strode ahead, pushing past their companions. Gemma couldn’t fight a small smile at the woman’s bravado. She swallowed her anxiety and followed.


	2. Under the Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure the majority of this chapter consists of cute dwarves seeing the sky for the first time.
> 
> Also it's a bit short, but I promise later chapters will more than make up for it in length.
> 
> As usual, Dragon Age and everything associated with it belongs to Bioware, not to me, and I'm not making any money on this.

It was bigger than any story could ever have expressed. It was dark, but nothing like the pitch-black caverns of the Deep Roads. Down there, you knew the walls were there, could feel them around you, containing the blackness. Up on the surface, it stretched on forever. It was not dark so much as it was the absence of anything else, broken up with hovering pinpricks of sharp light. These, Naia, guessed, were stars. She had heard about them, but was nowhere near prepared for this multitude. Almost directly above them hung a huge glowing orb. She found herself looking for whatever structure supported it, despite knowing that it had no supports. It simply hovered there eternally, looking down on the denizens of the surface world. Naia had never believed the fairy tales of dwarves who ventured to the surface being sucked up into the sky, but she still had to fight the urge to grab onto something solid and never let go.

Once she could tear her gaze away from the void above her, Naia glanced surreptitiously over at Gemma to see if the other dwarf was having the same reaction. To her embarrassment, Gemma was looking back at her, presumably out of the same sense of curiosity. The four Grey Wardens, meanwhile, were gazing at the pair of them with open amusement. Evric in particular looked utterly thrilled. Naia felt a nearly irresistible urge to kick him, but managed to refrain. Besides, she wasn’t sure she wanted to lift even one foot off the ground for as long as a kick would take to perform.

The elven healer, Marin, broke the silence. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It’s…” Gemma stumbled over whatever she had been about to say and fell into an awkward silence.

“Huge?” Naia suggested, “Empty?”

“It’s hardly empty.” Evric pointed out.

“It is when you’re used to good solid walls over your head!”

He grinned and stretched his arms over his head, rolling his shoulders back. “Well, I’m certainly glad to be back out in the open. I always feel so cramped underground.”

“That’s because you’re a giant.” Marin informed him, patting him on the back. Being an elf, he was a head shorter than any of the humans, though still considerably larger than Naia or Gemma. “Shall we camp for the night, then?”

“Not here,” Duncan broke in, “Let’s put some distance between us and the Deep Roads entrance first.”

“No arguments here, boss. I’ve seen enough darkspawn for the time being, thanks.” Evric scooped his pack off the ground and threw it over his shoulders once more. Gemma, who had returned to staring at the night sky, nearly tripped over her own feet as she made to follow Duncan and the others. Naia snickered to herself. She would never have expected one of the high and mighty nobles of Orzammar to be quite so awkward. Still, she supposed awkward was at least more bearable than lofty and arrogant image to which Naia had previously held the Aeducan family.

Despite her offense when Gemma suggested it before, it occurred to Naia now that up here, under this enormous void of a sky, the difference between noble and casteless really was not so vast. Walking alongside the former noblewoman, Naia thought the two of them seemed equally insignificant. In Orzammar, castes and politics seemed to fill the dwarves entire world, almost as tangible as the stone walls that surrounded them. Here, for the first time, there were no walls, real or imaginary. She noticed that she was now walking in step with Gemma, but did not move away. Instead, she focused on the new sights, fascinated by everything around her. Too embarrassed to ask what any of the odd things she saw were called, she tried to put names to them from the tales she’d heard in Orzammar. She identified the plant covering the ground as grass, and marveled at how odd springy it felt beneath her feet. She imagined the stalks unbending beneath her and pushing her upwards, making her walk ever so slightly faster.

She also recognized a few scattered trees, which grew in greater numbers as the small company drew away from the rockier ground where the entrance to the Deep Roads was concealed. Some they encountered were barely taller than Naia, but some stretched up so far that their dark upper branches almost blended in with the sky. Even the air above ground was different Living where she did, Naia had never really known what it was like not to inhale dust with every breath, but this air was clearer and fresher than even the Diamond Quarter could possibly be. It felt odd in her lungs, but certainly not unpleasant.

Distracted by the newness of everything in the surface world, Naia had no idea how long or far they walked that night. Until Duncan called a halt, she failed to even notice how exhausted she was. They stopped in a small, dense copse of trees and began laying out bedrolls. Naia unrolled hers amid the roots of a large tree and wrapped herself in it to keep out the night chill, certain all the excitement of the day would keep her awake for hours to come.

She was asleep within minutes.

~

An indistinct male voice woke Gemma the next morning. Though she was not immediately able to make out his words, his voice was friendly and pleasant to listen to. She rolled over, smiling.

“Good morning, Gorim”.

“Good morning. I’m afraid you go the name wrong, though.”

The voice was smoother and pitched slightly higher than Gorim’s, or any other dwarf Gemma had ever met. She opened her eyes. “Oh. Hello, Marin.”

The elf smiled. “How do you feel?”

Sore, from all the running she’d done in the Deep Roads, as well as the uneven ground she’d slept on. Exhausted, physically and mentally. Angry. Still angry. “I’m fine. Better this morning.” That part was true. Despite the uncomfortable night, she still felt better for the sleep.

Marin studied Gemma for a moment, and then seemed to accept that he wouldn’t get a more specific response out of her. “Come out from under the trees. There’s something you need see.”  
The elf unfolded his legs and got to his feet, extending a hand to her as he did so. Feeling a bit apprehensive, she took it. “What is it?”

Marin pointed upwards, rather awkwardly, as he was still holding onto her hand. He was too tall, and the position quickly became uncomfortable. She tugged her arm away. “You’re too tall for that!”

He laughed nervously. “I don’t hear that very often. Usually I’m surrounded by humans. Sorry about your arm.”

But Gemma wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. She’d finally looked where he Marin was pointing. The sky, broken into small patches by the tree branches, was pale pink, streaked with red and puffs of silver-gray.

“Gemma? Oh.” Marin chuckled. “Come out from under the trees. You’ll be able to see much better.”

She tried walking towards him without lowering her gaze, and almost ran right into him. He caught her by the shoulders. “Whoa! You know it’ll still be there in a minute even if you look away, right?”

Gemma ignored the comment and hurried past him and out from underneath the tree cover. She skidded to a stop as soon as she broke away from the trees and dropped to the ground so as to see the sky better. Hanging low over the horizon was an enormous glowing orb that sent streaks of golden light across everything in Gemma’s view. She was mesmerized—at least until she tried looking directly at the source of the light. She yelped in pain and surprise, throwing both arms up to cover her face.

Laughter rang out somewhere in front of her. “You’ve got to learn not to look at the sun, Princess!” Naia actually sounded cheerful. That alone was enough to startle Gemma into looking up.

“So I see.” She lifted her head away from her arms to see Naia and Marin standing over her. “You look like you’re enjoying the world up here, Naia.”

Some of the other girl’s excitement seemed to drain away immediately. She kicked at a patch of grass. “Well, it’s better than Dust Town, anyways. Not that you’d know.”

Gemma wasn’t sure how to respond, as Naia seemed determined to be upset by everything she said or did. Luckily, Marin intervened. “Come on, both of you. Let’s watch the sunrise and then get back to camp. We’ve got a long way to go today.”

~

As the dreary hours of their first day on the surface passed, Naia grew more and more concerned about her arms. At first she had believed it was only her imagination, or perhaps a trick of the light, but now she was sure. Her skin was changing color. She was positive that she had never been this pink before, and as if that weren’t bad enough, the change came with an uncomfortable prickling sensation that made Naia want to crawl out of her own body. Experimentally, she pressed a thumb into her forearm, and yelped in surprise.

Duncan, who walked at the head of their small party, swung around immediately. His hand was on his weapon, clearly expecting some trouble greater than Naia’s recent unpleasant discovery. Gemma and the other Wardens reacted almost as quickly, and were at Naia’s side in an instant.  
As soon as Evric’s laughter started, Naia wished they’d been a little slower on the uptake. The human Warden seized Naia’s wrist and lifted it for the others to see.

“Why, I think our cave-dwelling friend’s got a bit of a burn!” He announced.

Duncan relaxed, smiling kindly at Naia. “Ah. My fault, I suppose. We should have taken precautions sooner.”

Gemma remained in a fighting stance, sword still in hand, as if unsure that they were truly safe. “A burn? How did she get a burn?”

“From the sun. It happens sometimes, if you spend too much time in the light.” Duncan explained. “Marin?”

The healer was already rummaging through his bag. He produced a glass jar and handed it to Naia. “Spread that anywhere the sun will touch your skin. I’m sorry, I can’t believe I didn’t mention this earlier.”

Naia dipped her fingers in the cream and made a face at the smell. “How is this supposed to help? And how is the sun burning me? We can’t be that close to it!”  
Marin dug out another jar and passed it to Gemma. “We aren’t that close, no, but think of the sun as a very hot fire. Even if you aren’t touching it, it starts to scorch after a while. The salve will help protect you, trust me.”

Gemma rubbed some of the salve onto her own reddened skin, wondering how she’d managed not to notice it before. “But why aren’t any of you burnt?”

“We live up here. We haven’t been sheltered under a rock our whole lives!” Evric grinned. “You two are delicate for now, but you’ll get used to it eventually.”

Naia glared at him. “I hope the sun fries you.”

Duncan sighed. “Marin, Evric, I suggest we don’t rely on our thick skins to protect us today. It’s only going to get hotter.”

Naia handed her jar to Evric, still looking irritated, and the men hurried to apply the cream to their own skin.

Despite her initial skepticism, after half an hour or so Naia had to admit that Marin’s treatment worked. Not only were her arms not getting any redder, the discomfort of the burns she’d already acquired was fading. Still, the heat of the sun made walking on the surface close to unbearable. The lustre of the surface world was quickly fading, and by the time they paused to eat, Naia was dragging her feet, kicking up clouds of dust that almost reached her nostrils. She tried not to display her exhaustion as she sank to the ground beneath one of the first trees they’d seen since leaving their campsite of the previous night.

Gemma dropped down beside her, not doing nearly as good of a job at hiding how weak her legs felt. “I can’t believe how much harder walking is in this heat!”

Caught up in the shared discomfort, Naia sighed and relaxed for a moment. “I don’t think I was ever this tired in Orzammar!”

Marin broke off chunks of bread and cheese and handed out strips of dried mystery meat for each of them and they ate quickly, supplementing the meal with conservative drinks from their water skins. The Wardens especially scarfed down their rations as if they hadn’t seen so much as a crumb in weeks. Naia found herself staring. By all the ancestors, she had better table manners than they did! Evric caught her gaze and grinned. “We’re growing boys! We need our nutrition!”

Naia’s jaw dropped slightly. “You’re going to get even **_bigger_**?”

Evric and Marin roared with laughter. Even Duncan couldn’t stifle his own amusement.

“You’re not really going to get taller, are you?” Gemma piped up from her place beside Naia.

Duncan chuckled. “Wider, perhaps. But no taller, I should think.”

Naia let out a sigh of relief. “Good. It’s hard enough talking to you from down here already!”

“Most of the time, I just assume you’re talking to my crotch.” Evric added, helpfully.

Naia scooped up a small rock from the ground and lobbed it at him. “Only when I’m being insulting.”

“So most of the time.”

Naia shrugged, grinning. Surfacer or no, she liked Evric, if only for his amusingly bad humor. In a way, she supposed he reminded her of Leske. A wave of homesickness washed over her. She didn’t miss Dust Town, not one bit. But the prospect of a lifetime without Rica and Leske was daunting. She’d never been away from Rica for more than a day since her birth, and she and Leske had been attached at the hip since they first met almost eight years before. Looking around her, she wondered if she could ever even begin to feel as comfortable with her current companions. She doubted it. How was she supposed to be friendly with a member of the royal  
family?

She sighed and took another bite of the dried meat strip that was the only thing left of her lunch, trying to avoid looking over at Gemma. Really, the girl didn’t seem too bad considering her highborn status, and she had been exiled. Maybe she hadn’t been pleased with the way things were in Orzammar either. She seemed too intelligent to get caught up in the backstabbing politics of the higher castes, and yet was obviously ignorant of the plight of the casteless. So what had she been occupying herself with for all that time in the Diamond Quarter? Her hair? No, surely Gemma had better things to think about than her appearance. Lovely as she was, it was sort of a carefree beauty, her face unpainted and her hair hanging loose except for the two small braids wrapped around her head like a crown. Naia found herself growing more curious with every thought she spared for the unusual noble girl, and resolved to look past her own bitterness towards the nobles for at least long enough to inquire about Gemma’s circumstances.

“Naia? Hello? You sleeping?”

Apparently, the others had continued their conversation while Naia was lost in thought. She realized that she’d spent the last ten minutes looking like she was contemplating her remaining strip of dried meat. She hurriedly shoved it in her mouth. “Not sleepin’.” She mumbled, through her full mouth. “Wha’s goin’on?”

Evric laughed. “We’re packing up! Gotta keep moving if we’re going to reach Ostagar by week’s end.”

Naia nodded sharply, still chewing, and clambered to her feet. They had a lot more walking to do.


	3. In Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *insert disclaimer here*  
> There's a lot of backstory in this chapter!

The next few days were surprisingly uneventful. A small, easily dispatched group of bandits and an unfortunately placed patch of poison ivy were the only troubles they faced, though Duncan warned that the further south they moved, the more likely they would be to encounter darkspawn. As sobering as this thought was, the younger members of the company couldn’t help but have their spirits lifted by the relatively easy travel. Marin and Evric spent the days talking and joking, telling tall tales and funny anecdotes from their time as Wardens. Occasionally, Duncan would interject would some bits of knowledge about the surface world. After a while, Gemma began to notice that these interruptions were more frequent when the younger men were talking specifically about the Grey Wardens or the time when they first joined the order. She wondered in passing what he was hiding, and if Naia had noticed the same thing.

Not that she’d be able to talk to Naia about her observations. Naia almost never spoke to her directly, though she didn’t avoid her quite as blatantly either. Both girls listened and commented on the stories told by their companions, but neither volunteered much information about their past lives. Gemma didn’t want to even think about Bhelen’s betrayal or Trian’s death, and she knew Naia must have her own demons lurking in her former life.

As such, it was quite a shock for Gemma when Naia sat down beside her one night, dipping her toes into the small creek that ran near their camp.

“So. What’s your story, then?” Naia sounded like she was forcing the words, forcing herself to sound confident. Was she nervous? That seemed odd.

Gemma turned to face her. “Excuse me?”

“You know. You’re a princess of Orzammar! How did you end up here?”

Well this was new. Naia had never shown anything but disdain for Gemma’s status as a member of the royal family. Now she seemed curious, genuine, even a bit awkward. Gemma didn’t want to pass up a chance to bridge the gap between them, but wasn’t sure if telling her life story was the best idea either. Naia at least deserved a warning.

“It’s not exactly a happy story.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it, just say so.” She actually sounded disappointed.

“No, I…I don’t mind telling you. I just thought you should know what you’re getting into.”

Naia rolled her eyes. “Do you honestly think I’m used to happy stories?”

“Fair. So…what do you want to know?”  Gemma had a feeling she was going to regret this. The casteless girl had hardly been friendly towards her, after all.

“You don’t have to start from the day you were born, if that’s what you’re asking. I just want to know how an Aeducan ended up running through the Deep Roads covered in filth.”

“…is this part of some weird revenge fantasy or something?” Maybe this was a bad idea after all. 

“What? No! Come on, can’t I be curious?”

Naia looked so earnest, an unfamiliar expression on the normally standoffish girl. Gemma had to bite back her amusement, thinking that laughing would probably end whatever chance this had of being a friendly conversation. “Alright, fine. So I have-“ she paused “- _had_ two brothers, one older and one younger…”

“I know this part, Aeducan. I’m not an idiot.”

“What? I’m sorry, I just didn’t think you cared enough to know about this stuff!”

“ I _don’t_.” Naia stressed. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t heard your names. Rica – my sister – used to talk about you nobles all the time.”

_Whoa_ , Gemma thought, _now_ **_that_** _sounded bitter._ “Are you sure you want to hear this story?”

“Yes, alright? Just…skip the exposition.”

Gemma sighed. “I bet you were a terrible child. Okay, so before Duncan found me, I was preparing to lead my first expedition into the Deep Roads. All of the royal children have to do it, as soon as our father thinks we’re ready. The night before my first command, my father held a feast…”

“Of course he did…”

“Naia, do you want to hear this story or not?”

“Okay, I get it! Sorry.” Naia put a finger over her lips. Was she actually smiling? “So how was the feast?”

“Boring. A bunch of deshyrs and other influential people wanting to ask me dull questions.”

Naia looked like she wanted to say something, but managed to keep her mouth shut. Instead she shook her head, looking incredulous.

“The important part happened after the feast. My younger brother, Bhelen, asked to speak to me in private. He’d been acting strange all night, and I was worried. He was my little brother, you know?”

Naia nodded, looking almost sympathetic. “So what did he have to say?”

“He told me that Trian, our oldest brother, was jealous of me. That was nothing new, I mean, Trian was jealous of just about everyone. He thought he was entitled to the throne because he was the oldest, but was constantly worried that Bhelen or I would be named instead, since succession is based on the king’s choice, not blood. But then he told me–” She took a deep, shuddering breath. She’d known it would be painful, when she inevitably had to tell the tale, but this was even worse than she’d imagined. She swallowed hard and pushed on. “He told me that Trian was plotting to kill me. He urged me to go and confront him.”

“And you didn’t even ask him how he knew this?”

“He was my _baby brother_ , Naia. I wasn’t sure what to think, but Trian had never liked me. That much I knew. I didn’t want to force a confrontation, especially if Bhelen was overreacting, so I told him I needed proof before I did anything. Besides, I had my expedition to worry about.”

Naia shook her head again. “You just ignored the threat?”

“I thought you said I shouldn’t have believed Bhelen!”

“That’s not what I said. Better to strike first and be wrong than to be killed.”

“Naia, these were my brothers! I didn’t want to believe either of them was out to get me! I certainly wasn’t about to kill one of them over a…over a rumor!”

The disbelief written on Naia’s face changed to an expression of pitying sympathy. “Family should never turn on each other. They do, but they shouldn’t. I’m sorry you had to learn it this way.”

“You’re sorry I had to…? Naia, you haven’t even let me finish my story and you already think you know the ending?”

“So your brother wasn’t trying to kill you then?”

“Just let me finish.”

 Naia held her hands out in surrender.

“The next day I went into the Deep Roads with two scouts and an old friend, Gorim. We were headed to the old Aeducan Thaig, looking for an ancient shield.”

“That sounds like a stupid mission.”

“It was a test, Naia! My first expedition into the Deep Roads! And that shield had great historical value!”

“Oh of course, ancient history is always more important than dealing with a threat to your life.” Naia nodded in mock understanding.

“If you’re not going to let me tell the story, could you at least do me the courtesy of leaving so I can wash up?”  Gemma snapped, exasperated.

“I’m sorry! I’m just…trying to understand. I am, I swear.” She changed topics  hurriedly. “Did you find the shield?

Gemma sighed. “We found it. We also found darkspawn. _Dead_ darkspawn. And the vault containing the shield had been opened, unlocked by an Aeducan signet ring.”

“Your brother beat you there.”

“Yes. We were ambushed inside the vault. One of the assassins had Trian’s signet ring.”

“So it was Trian!”

Gemma shot the other girl a glare, and she quickly shut her mouth and gestured for the story to continue. “It certainly looked that way. We found the shield and headed for the surface. I wanted to get back as quickly as possible and find out what exactly was going on. On the road, we came across even more dead darkspawn, and…” Gemma tried to talk, but no words came. Her eyes burned, and there was a lump in her throat that she was sure would soon be large enough to cut off her breathing.

“Aeducan? Hey…um…” Naia shifted uncomfortably. “You’re safe, okay? They’re just memories. They can’t hurt you.”

Surely she knew how wrong her words were. Gemma couldn’t imagine anything hurting as badly as these memories. Still, Naia was trying to be comforting, and it was a sweet gesture. She blinked away tears and kept her eyes focused on the rippling stream.

“We found Trian’s body. He – it – hadn’t been mutilated like it would have been if darkspawn had been to blame.” She took a deep breath, and her next words came out in a rush. “I heard Bhelen’s voice – Bhelen and my father. My father’s second, Lord Harrowmont, was there too. Bhelen told everyone I’d killed Trian.”

“But you had people with you! They must have known–”

“My scouts backed Bhelen. They told how I’d ordered them to attack Trian, even though he was unarmed. Only Gorim stood by me.”

“And your father believed that your brother Trian was just wandering, alone and unarmed, in the Deep Roads?”

“I suppose he did. Lord Harrowmont was suspicious. He suspected Bhelen, tried to prove my innocence, but there was nothing he could do. The Assembly convicted me and sentenced me to exile in the Deep Roads. Gorim was allowed to visit me to say goodbye, and he reminded me about the Wardens. We’d met them before, at a Proving held in their honor, and Gorim said that I should try to find them in the Deep Roads. Duncan had told us they would be on a mission there for some time. It wasn’t much of a chance, but it was all I had.”

Naia was silent for once. Gemma tried not to look at her. _She’s been through so much hardship,_ she thought, _she has a right to hate the nobility. Does she still think I’m one of them? Does my whole story sound like a nice stroll through the Diamond Quarter to her?_ She felt something warm touch her hand and, with a jolt, realized that Naia had laid a hand over hers.

“Aeducan?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you found us.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day was the best Naia could remember in a very long time. The sunrise was more beautiful, the dry food tasted better, Evric and Marin were funnier…and none  of that, she told herself, had anything to do with the fact that she spent the entire day walking beside Gemma Aeducan. It was a better day, she was in a better mood, and that was the end of it.

Her mood was so good, in fact, that when Evric commented that she’d been travelling with them for more than a week and still hadn’t told them how she’d come to meet Duncan, she actually answered. “I met him at the Proving. The one held in his honor. You and Marin weren’t there at all?”

Evric pulled a face. “No. We went ahead into the Deep Roads. Something about scouting, but I think Duncan just wanted all the attention for himself!” The last part was shouted so that Duncan, who was some ways ahead of them, could hear. He cast a glance over his shoulder at his unruly subordinates and smiled.

“Watch where you fling those accusations, Evric. Remember I get to choose your missions.”

“Ooo. Ouch. Well then, my deepest apologies, Warden Commander.”

Duncan shook his head and focused his gaze back on the road before them.

“Wait a minute. Naia, you were at the Proving? Casteless aren’t…how did you…oh.”

Naia grinned. “Remember me, princess?”

“You’re the one who dishonored the Proving, aren’t you?”

The casteless girl took a bow, ridiculous grin still splitting her face. “I am of no caste or clan, yet I have bested you all!”

Gemma covered her mouth with her hands. “I thought you were dead! I thought they executed you!”

“They tried. Duncan stopped them. Ancestors’ balls the Proving Master was angry!”

Gemma stared at her, in shock and blushing to the roots of her hair at the absurd obscenity.

“Um, excuse me?” Marin interrupted, “Mind filling us in?”

Gemma just stuttered, unable to gather her thoughts enough to speak, but Naia beamed. “My pleasure. You remember I told you I worked for the carta?”  They nodded. “Well my boss, Beraht, had bet a lot of money on one of the fighters. Young guy named Everd. The problem was, his opponent was way better. So my Leske – my partner – and I were supposed to poison him so Everd could win.”

“You were going to poison Mainar?” Gemma was giving her that disapproving look again.

“We weren’t going to give him enough to kill him, just enough to dull his reflexes a bit. Why, did you know him?”

“I think we’re ignoring the real question here!” Evric announced, cutting off whatever Gemma had been about to say next. “”Your ‘partner’, eh? How come we haven’t heard about this guy?”

Naia rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that, idiot. He was my partner because Beraht said so. We patrolled and went on jobs together.”

Evric waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Whatever you say.”

“I hate you. Anyways, we got to the Proving Grounds and found Everd passed out drunk in his changing room. Seriously, he smelled worse than my mother.”

“Your…mother?” Gemma sounded more confused than shocked this time.

“She drinks herself stupid on lichen ale. It’s horrible and stinks like nug shit. Not the point, though.”

Gemma looked like she wanted to say something but, mercifully, remained silent.

“So, it was pretty obvious that even if this guy woke up in time for the fighting to start, he was going to get spanked by Mainar, poisoned or no, and probably anyone else he fought. Which put Leske and me in a pretty tight spot. If Everd lost, he’d blame us, and with that much money at stake, we’d be lucky to escape with our lives. And then…well, I had I my sister to worry about, didn’t I? I wasn’t about to let Beraht turn her out on the street!”

Her last words came out harsher than she’d intended them to, and she found her companions staring at her, puzzled looks on their faces. She hadn’t expected to feel so defensive about what she’d done. It wasn’t as if she’d had a choice. But in the back of her mind, there was an annoying, questioning voice. She and Leske would have been punished if they had failed, and probably Rica too. She’d done it for them.

_Are you sure? Did you do it for them? Or was it because you were angry? Wanted a chance to show those high and mighty nobles up? You knew the risks. Were you just looking for another thrill?_

“…Naia?” Gemma’s hesitant voice interrupted the stream of nagging thoughts that had been trying to pick her apart since the Proving. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Fine. Anyway, we couldn’t very well let Everd go out and fight in that state. So I…well, I took his armor. He was passed out cold, didn’t even notice when I turned him over.”

Evric looked delighted. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I put on his armor, yes–”

“I meant about you stripping a drunk guy down to his small clothes, but…”

Naia rolled her eyes. “First of all, he was wearing clothes under the armor. You don’t walk around naked under all that chainmail, do you?”

Evric winced. “Ow.”

“Exactly. So, long story short, Leske poisoned Mainar and I went out into the arena and beat everyone who came my way. Then…Everd woke up. Stumbled out into the field, still drunk and screaming that I was an imposter. Which I guess was true.”

Evric shouted with laughter. Naia glared at him. “It’s not funny! The Proving Master asked that I take off Everd’s helmet so everyone could see who had defeated Orzammar’s best warriors. I didn’t have much of a choice, so I did it.”

“Pretty dramatically, too.” Gemma added. Naia thought she looked a little bit impressed, and hoped she wasn’t imagining it.

“Of course, as soon as the crowd realized I was casteless, chaos broke out. Duncan was there. He tried to defend me. They said I had no place among them, but Duncan…he said my place was as their champion.” That, at least, was a good memory. Pride swelled in her at the thought, and she looked ahead at Duncan, feeling something like affection for the older human. “Unfortunately no one else agreed. I never had the chance to fight. Guards grabbed me, someone hit me in the back of the head, and I woke up in a cell, with Leske in the next one over.”

Evric whistled. “Sounds like you caused quite a stir.”

“No kidding. But this wasn’t an official prison. Somehow, the carta had gotten ahold of us. Luckily, that at least meant security wasn’t quite so top notch. We escaped and fought our way through Beraht’s base. Beraht himself tried to stop us. He failed.”

“You…you killed the leader of the carta?” Now Gemma definitely sounded impressed. Naia puffed up.

“I did it myself. His second, Jarvia, escaped though, and when we emerged from the passage into the Merchant’s Quarter, it didn’t take too long for the real guards to catch us. They didn’t know Leske’s part in it, and I wasn’t about to tell them, so they let him go. But I was brought to the Proving Master. I knew what would happen. After all that, I was going to die.”

Naia had to admit, she was enjoying the rapt attention from her companions. Even these memories sounded better, more glorious, under the light of the sun, before an admiring audience.

“And that’s when Duncan found you?” Marin had been silent up until then.

“Yeah, I guess he waited with the Proving Master, hoping I’d be brought back. They wanted to execute me, of course. But Duncan told them he was exercising his right of con-something to recruit me as a Grey Warden.”

Marin and Evric laughed. “Right of Conscription, Naia. Means a Grey Warden can take anyone they want, from a criminal to a crown prince, and no one can say anything about it.”

“Well, I guess that makes sense. No way the guards would have given me up if they didn’t have to. Duncan let me go and say goodbye to my sister and Leske, and then we were off into the Deep Roads.” She paused, then added, for Gemma’s benefit, “That’s when I met these idiots. You came along – what – about a week later?”

Gemma nodded. “Yeah. The feast in honor of my command was about a week after the Proving you…won.”

Naia grinned. She hadn’t said “dishonored”! That had to be intentional. She was starting to think that Gemma Aeducan really was a different sort of noble.

Evric clapped her on the back. “You really messed with everyone’s heads back in Orzammar, eh? Good on you. I always thought that whole caste thing was a bit unnecessary.”

Marin nodded his agreement. “No one should be treated like that. Not your people or mine.”

“What do you mean? Your people, as in elves?” Naia was struck by how ignorant she was of surface politics. She knew humans didn’t have castes in the same way that dwarves did, but had little knowledge about the ways of elves. From a glance at Gemma, it was clear that the other dwarf was just as lost.

“Yes, elves. We used to be slaves to the sh – to the humans. Even now we aren’t equals. In most cities we have to live in alienages, seperate from the humans, and our only real employment options are as servants or criminals.”

“Huh. At least you have employment options. In Dust Town, you’re in the carta or you’re dead.” She realized as soon as the words were out of her mouth that she must have sounded insensitive. _Oops._ “You’re right though, Marin. Our people shouldn’t have to live like that. Is that where you came from? An alienage?”

Luckily, he didn’t seem offended. He nodded. “Yes, in a city called Kirkwall, across the sea from Ferelden – that’s the country we’re in now, if you didn’t know.”

Naia thought she’d heard Duncan mention the name, but had never given much thought. The surface must be vast, to encompass so many cities and countries! She looked ahead at the horizon. They ground beneath their feet was growing steeper, and Duncan, much further ahead, was nearly at the top of the rise in the land.

When he reached the top, the senior Warden turned and called out for them to join him. The four companions stopped talking and sped up their pace, Gemma and Naia falling a bit behind due to their shorter legs. When they reached the top, Naia let out her breath in a harsh gasp.

In the distant ahead of them rose an immense, crumbling castle, sprawled across what had to be miles of land. The road beneath their feet led eventually to an iron gate set into a high stone wall that ran around the edges of the castle. Beyond the wall, several towers rose, higher than anything Naia had ever seen. She imagined herself standing atop one of them, looking out over the entirety of the surface, and wasn’t sure if the thought was sickening or exhilarating. She turned to look at Duncan. “Is that where we’re going?”

He smiled. “It is. That is Ostagar, where we will be making our stand against the darkspawn forces that have gathered to the south, in the Korcari Wilds. We should be there before sundown tomorrow.”

Naia grinned, excited despite the prospect of war with the darkspawn. After all, the dwarves of Orzammar faced darkspawn on a regular basis. She took off running down the hill, eager to see something besides the long road.

 

 


	4. In the Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, I don't own Dragon Age. Bioware owns it all blah blah blah.

Ostagar was every bit as impressive as it had looked from the top of the hill the night before. The gates were rusted, but as they were still about ten times the size of an average dwarf, the tarnish didn’t seem to matter so much. They stood open, and the road continued beyond into the ruined fortress. Gemma had never seen anything like this structure in Orzammar. For one thing, it was huge and she doubted the highest towers would even have fit into the caverns in which she had spent her entire life. Something about the architecture was different too, although she couldn't quite put a finger on what it was, due in part to the state of disrepair the structure was in. She thought it seemed blockier and less elegant than the buildings she was used to. She was keenly aware that she would be a foreigner inside these crumbling walls, even more so than she already was. Duncan and the other Wardens had been nothing but kind to her, but she wasn't sure how a large army of human soldiers would feel about having dwarves in their midst. The thought made her insides squirm uncomfortably.

They had barely been inside the gates five minutes when they were intercepted by an enormous man in golden armor that, up close, was about as dazzling as the sun had been their first morning on the surface. He wore his hair long, like the dwarven lords, but straight and much neater, and his face was cleanshaven. He was handsome in a very human way, Gemma thought, and not a little intimidating. Hurrying toward them in a rather undignified manner, he raised an armored hand and shouted an enthusiastic greeting to Duncan, who seemed a bit taken aback.

“Pardon me, but I was not expecting – ”

“A royal welcome?” The shining man questioned. “I was beginning to think you’d miss all the fun!” He rested an enormous hand on Duncan’s shoulder, grinning in a disturbingly childlike manner.

Royal? This man was royalty? Gemma didn’t think she’d encountered a member of the royal family in Orzammar who looked even half this cheerful in her entire life. Wasn’t he in the middle of fighting a war against the darkspawn? She wondered what he could possibly be so excited about.

She was deep in thought about this newest oddity when she realized that the object of her curiosity was now looking appraisingly at her and Naia. “And I suppose these are the new recruits you went to fetch? We so rarely see any of the stout folk outside of Orzammar, and now here are two! Might I know your names, friends?”

Strange as he may be, royalty was royalty. She smiled and curtseyed. “You may call me Gemma, your Majesty.” She decided against giving her family name, just in case the surfacer king was more knowledgeable about foreign politics than she suspected.

Naia, standing on the other side of Duncan, had not yet spoken. Judging from her expression, she should probably be prevented from doing so as much as possible. Gemma doubted that this man, friendly as he now seemed, would be nearly as forgiving of Naia’s outright rudeness as she had been. Still, she needed to introduce herself. Not doing so would be almost as rude as anything she could say at this point. Gemma gave her what she hoped was an encouraging nod.

The king’s gaze was now fixed squarely on Naia. “And you, my friend?”

She bristled. “I am no friend of yours, human lord.”

 _Nug shit._ She was going to get them all on the king’s bad side! Duncan apparently thought so too, as he had placed a restraining hand on Naia’s shoulder and was apologizing profusely to the golden king, while Naia fumed. _How can she be so angry with him already?_ Gemma wondered. _He can’t possibly have done anything to offend her yet!_

To her surprise, the king laughed. “Well, I am Cailan. It is good to have you both here. We will be shedding blood together, after all, and I hope you may yet call me friend before all is said and done. But I still do not know your name!”

Naia opened her mouth to respond, but Gemma was quicker. Perhaps King Cailan was better natured than she had feared, but she wasn’t sure his goodwill could survive another of Naia’s barbs. “Her name is Naia, Your Majesty.”

“Gemma and Naia! Names as lovely as yourselves, surely. And you must call me Cailan!” He grinned disarmingly, becoming still more dazzling, and gestured for the group to walk with him. “So tell me of Orzammar! I attended a Proving once with my father, but have not had much opportunity to get to know the city or her people – something I hope to change in the future!”

Gemma drew in a breath. There was no way _this_ conversation was going to end well. Even if Cailan could stomach Naia’s blunt criticisms, she wasn’t sure how he felt about disgraced princesses. She summoned all the diplomacy she had ever learned. “Orzammar endures as she always has, Your Majes – Cailan. The darkspawn may have only just reappeared on the surface, but they remain a constant threat under the mountains.” Hopefully, that would be enough to turn the conversation back to the upcoming battle.

King Cailan nodded solemnly. “Perhaps once we have defeated them on the surface, we will take the battle to the darkspawn. Together our forces might be able to take back the Deep Roads!”

Well, at least he knew about the Deep Roads. Idiotically idealistic he may be, but perhaps he wasn’t entirely ignorant of everything outside his own realm.

Duncan, perhaps hoping to turn the conversation further from Orzammar, chose that moment to interrupt.  “I take it our forces are doing well, Your Majesty?”

 _Perhaps I shouldn’t be calling him by name after all_ , Gemma reflected, _if Duncan doesn’t._

“We have won three victories over the darkspawn already! I’m beginning to think this isn’t even a true Blight. There has been no sign of an archdemon, unfortunately.”

 _An archdemon? He’s **disappointed**_ _about that?_ Yet again, Gemma found herself reevaluating the king’s intelligence.

Duncan apparently found this statement even more ridiculous then Gemma did. He shook his head, and said something about waiting for the king’s uncle to arrive with his forces, an idea Cailan rejected instantly

They had now reached a deep chasm, spanned by an enormous stone bridge. At its mouth, the king stopped. “I’m afraid I must take my leave of you, friends. Teryn Loghain waits to bore me with strategy. I hope to see more of you in the future!” He made a face, and waved farewell.

To her credit, Naia waited until the king was halfway across the bridge before exclaiming “Duncan, he’s an idiot!”

“Hush, Naia. Cailan is king in this land, and there is more to him than meets the eye. He is a bit overconfident, but one of the Grey Wardens' greatest allies in Ferelden.”

“He does seem a bit too excited about fighting darkspawn.” Gemma added. “He seems to admire you greatly, Duncan. Perhaps you could convince him to wait for reinforcements?”

The older Grey Warden sighed. “I shall certainly try, but I do not expect him to listen.”

“Cailan admires the myth of the Wardens.” Evric commented. “I wonder if he would be so impressed if he was more in touch with reality?”

Duncan held out his hands. “Enough, Evric. You and Marin should find the other Wardens. I need to speak with our recruits.”

Evric gave a mock bow. “Whatever you say, Warden-Commander. Later Naia, Gemma!” He started across the bridge, not looking to see if Marin followed.

The elf hung behind. “Gemma, Naia. It has been a pleasure travelling with you, and I look forward to having you as my comrades. Good luck.”

Gemma felt unexpected tears sting her eyes. Unlike Evric’s carefree farewell, Marin’s words sounded strangely final, despite allusion to the future. She got the feeling he didn’t really believe he would see them again, and she hoped desperately that he was wrong. Without Marin’s skill as a healer, Gemma doubted she would even have survived the Deep Roads, and he had continued to be a comfort to her during their journey.

She held out her hand, unsure what she could say to communicate any of this. “Thanks for saving my life, Marin.”

He chuckled, taking her hand. “Again, it was my pleasure.”

Impulsively, she pulled him into a hug. Startled, he resisted at first, but gave in and returned the embrace. Hugging him was strange, as the top of her head rested somewhere around his chest, but she felt a bit better all the same. “Be careful out there.”

“You too, Gemma.”

They released each other, and Marin held a hand out to Naia, who took it. “Don’t die, Marin.”

He laughed. “I’ve come this far. I don’t intend to.” He looked her in the eyes, suddenly serious. “That goes for you too, by the way.”

Naia nodded. “I’ll try not to do anything too stupid.”

“That’s all I ask.”

On the bridge, Evric had noticed his friend’s absence, and turned to look at the four of them. “Mar, come on! They’ll eat all the food if we don’t hurry!”

Marin rolled his eyes. “Farewell, friends. See you at camp, Duncan.”

Once he and Evric had given the group another wave and turned for the other side of the bridge, Duncan gestured for Naia and Gemma to step off the path.

“King Cailan may be confident, but I believe this battle will be more difficult than he thinks. We will need every Warden and soldier, and to that end, I would like to proceed with the Joining ritual as soon as possible.”

Well that sounded ominous. “Joining ritual?”

“Can we eat first?” Naia asked, plaintively.

Duncan chuckled. “The Joining is what will make you a Grey Warden. I cannot tell you much more, but there are preparations that must be made before the ritual can begin. As for food” , he reached into a pouch tied around his waist and handed each of them a few silvers, “there should be plenty of merchants hanging around. They follow the army, selling their wares to the men. I don’t think you’ll have a problem finding a meal.”

“Can’t we eat with the other Wardens?” Naia asked. “Evric said something about food.”

“I’m afraid not. Not until after the Joining, when you will truly be Grey Wardens.”

“So this Joining…” Gemma began, thinking that this ‘ritual’ was a far more pressing concern than lunch, “What exactly do we have to do? Is it dangerous?”

“All Wardens must pay a price. Fate may decree that you pay it now, rather than later.”

Before Gemma could even sort begin to sort through this cryptic statement, Naia interrupted her train of thought. “You’re joking. Even just becoming a Warden could kill us?”

“I would not have brought either of you here if I didn’t think you had a chance of surviving. You are both survivors. I believe you have proven that many times over.”

Gemma swallowed hard. She had been sure she would die in the Deep Roads, but had found Duncan instead. He’d saved her life and Naia’s, and she didn’t believe that he would have brought them all this way just to die. Whatever he was suggesting had to be better than starving to death in the Deep Roads, or succumbing to the darkspawn taint. She took a deep breath. “Okay. When do we start?”

Duncan smiled at her approvingly. “Get something to eat first, then find Alistair. He is the newest Grey Warden, and will be helping you prepare for your Joining.”

“Are we your only recruits?”

“There are two others, who should be somewhere in the camp. You will meet them soon enough. For now, all I ask is that you do no leave this castle. I will be at my tent on the other side of the bridge should you need anything.”

Gemma nodded. “Okay. Thank you, Duncan.”

He smiled. “I will see you soon. Enjoy your lunch.” He set off across the bridge, and they saw him stop to greet several other men and women along the way.

“Everyone seems to know him.” Gemma commented.

Naia nodded. “I guess the Grey Wardens are kind of a big deal up here. What do you think the Joining is going to be? Think we’ll be fighting?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of test, I imagine.”

“What if we have to duel to the death?” Naia sounded disturbingly excited at this prospect. Either that or she was joking. It was sort of hard to tell sometimes.

“I don’t think Duncan’s going to make us duel to the death, Naia. He said he needed every Grey Warden he could get. Having us kill each other would be counterproductive.”

Naia sighed. “I guess. But he did say it would be dangerous!”

“Why do you sound so _happy_ about that?”

She shrugged. “I’d just rather it be something straightforward, like a fight, than a test or a puzzle or something.”

Gemma wasn’t sure she she felt the same way. “Well, no use worrying about it now. Should we get something to eat?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

 

~    

 

Within half an hour, the two recruits were completely lost. There had been no need for Duncan to warn them not to leave the fortress, Naia reflected, as she wasn't sure she would know how to leave even if she wanted to. At least it wouldn't be hard to find food. There were an abundance of merchants scattered around the various campsites, all shouting the merits of their wares at the top of their lungs at anyone who walked by. Ostagar may have been an army camp, but to Naia, it felt more like a festival. Not that she'd ever been to a festival.

At the end of a long row of loud merchants, they found a large campfire with a stew pot hanging from a tripod above it. A human girl stirred the contents of the pot, while an older woman who looked like she could be the girl's mother kneaded dough on a shabby table. None of the food stands they'd come across so far had smelled half as good. Naia stopped in her tracks. "Here."

Gemma, who was a few steps behind her, looked suspiscious. "What is that?"

Naia shrugged. "Don't know, but it smells good." She turned to the girl standing at the fire. "Hey! What's cooking?"

The girl looked startled, and came out from behind the tripod. "Oh, I'm sorry...I didn't...um...didn't see you there. It's filling for the pies." She gestured at the table behind her, where the older woman was working.

Naia realized then that the pot was hanging at about the level of her head. The girl, who was barely as tall as the tripod herself, had probably not even noticed her. She must be a young human, to be so small. Naia smiled at her. "It smells delicious. How much for a pie?" It felt strange to be asking about prices, knowing that she would actually be purchasing the food, and not swiping it while the shopowners were distracted.

"Um...ten coppers. But we can give you a bit of bread and cheese too!"

Naia was no expert in surfacer commerce, but that sounded like an awfully low price for a meal. "So cheap? I'm sure you could get more for food that smells that good!"

The girl blushed. "Maybe we could...but no one wants to buy from elves."

Elves? "You're...an elf?"

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. The girl shook her head, looking horrified. "You didn't realize? Oh Maker..."

"Honestly, all you tall folks look the same." She grinned, hoping to set the girl at ease. "It's awful hard to see details from down here."

"...You don't mind?"

"Mind what? You being an elf? Should I?"

Gemma poked her gently in the side and whispered, "Remember what Marin said? About his people not being equal?"

Oh. That might explain the girl's discomfort. "I swear, it doesn't bother me a bit. I just haven't met many elves."

The elf relaxed a little. "Well, I've never met a dwarf!"

"You think I'm a dwarf? I can't just be really short?" Naia gave her the best perplexed look she could muster.

She blushed an even deeper shade of red. "You're not a...I am so sorry! You just...you don't act like other humans, that's all!"

Gemma glared at her companion. "Don't listen to her. We are definitely dwarves."

Naia burst out laughing. "Sorry, sorry. We'll each take a pie, I think."

The elf looked at them as if they had suddenly sprouted wings. "You are the oddest people I have ever met." She walked away from the fire to grab a few finished pies from the table where the older woman worked and brought them over, wrapped in a bit of cloth.

Naia immediately took a bite out of her pie. It was just as delicious as she'd hoped. She tried to say so, but as her mouth was full of pie, all she could get out was was a sort of muffled grunt. The elf laughed loudly, but quickly covered her mouth, looking embarassed again.

Gemma sighed and handed over a silver. "Are you going to pay for that, Naia?"

 "Mmmf!" She'd almost forgotten. Having money to spend was definitely an odd feeling. She fumbled in the pocket of her trousers and handed over a small silver coin. She swallowed her pie and accepted the few coppers in change the girl gave her. "Sorry, it's just that I'm not really used to...buying things."

The girl laughed again. She had a smooth, musical laugh, a bit like Marin's. She was older than Naia had first thought, her small stature probably more to do with her elven heritage and lack of proper meals than youth. Her hair was long and pale brown, and had been covering her pointed ears. She had large brown eyes, and her nose and chin were almost as pointy as her ears. Naia wondered if all elves were so angular. Even aside from her height, she really did look different from the humans that dominated the camp. Prettier too, Naia thought, before quickly pushing the thought out of her mind. Now that was a bad idea.

True to her word, the girl dug around in a wooden chest near the table and produced enough bread and cheese for both Naia and Gemma to have small pieces. Naia eyed the cheese suspisciously. She'd never had anything like it before, but she was pretty sure that food wasn't supposed to be orange.

Confused, she turned to Gemma, who had already taken a piece of cheese with her free hand and was munching happily on it. "Is it...supposed to be that color?"

Gemma stared at her for a second, and then grinned. "You've never had cheese before?"

"They don't have it in Orzammar, do they?"

"Surface merchants bring it, sometimes. It can be lots of different colors, but orange is pretty normal."

The elven girl was still holding the cheese. "It's not rotten or anything, I promise!"

 At this point, it would probably be rude to refuse, so Naia took the cheese and bit off a small piece. To her surprise, it was very good, and very rich. "Okay, I think I like cheese." She looked down at her now very full hands, and wished she had a plate, or at least a rock. "Do you think we could sit here for a while?"

The girl looked surprised. "If you'd like to, I suppose you could." She looked around for the other woman, who had disappeared into a shabby tent a few yards away. "I mean, I'd like that. I'm Nessa."

Naia and Gemma introduced themselves, and followed Nessa around the fire pit, where she spread a tattered blanket on the ground for them to sit on. She also brought them two plates, explaining that she didn't have enough to sell, but didn't mind sharing.

"So what brings you to Ostagar, Nessa?" Naia asked, when half of her pie was gone and the growling in her stomach had quieted.

The elf's face went a little pink. She really was quite accomplished at blushing. Naia was certain she'd never looked that cute when she was embarrassed.

"Truth is, my parents and I didn't really have anywhere else to go." Nessa explained. "We used to live in the alienage in Denerim - that's the capitol of Ferelden - but the human who owned our building raised the rent, and we couldn't afford it. My father was the one who decided we should follow the army. I guess he thought we could do chores, and make food more appealing than army rations to sell."

Gemma looked shocked. "But staying at army camps like this...it can't be...well, it can't be safe for you!"

Nessa looked away. "I suppose it's not. But there are plenty of camp followers willing to provide… _other_ services. Besides, I've learned a few things. I can handle myself."

There was an edge to her voice now that hadn't been there before. Naia had no doubt that she could manage just about any trouble that came her way. Impressive. "I'll bet you can. Still, if anyone bothers you, give me a shout. I owe you, for making food this good."

Nessa ducked her head, smiling slightly. "So, what about you two? I haven't seen any other dwarves here. How did you get involved?"

Naia sat up a little straighter. "We were recruited from Orzammar to join the Grey Wardens."

Gemma sighed, but Nessa looked suitably impressed. "Wow. I've heard soldiers talking about the Grey Wardens, but I don't think I've ever met one.

"What do the soldiers say about the Wardens?" Gemma asked curiously.

"Well...either that they're going to defeat the darkspawn and save us all or that they're crazy old relics of a different time who are going to get us all killed. There doesn't seem to be much ground in between."

That figured. Naia chuckled.

"What's so funny?"Gemma did not seem nearly as amused.

"Nothing. We just should have known this wouldn't be easy."

The older woman reappeared from inside the tent, carrying a basket of linens. Peering over top of it, she looked at the two dwarves in confusion. "Nessa? Who are your guests?"

Her daughter jumped up from her spot on the blanket, and Naia and Gemma hurried to follow suit. "They are Grey Wardens, Mama, who stopped for some lunch. I thought it right to offer them a place to rest."

"Of course. We are honored by your presence, Wardens." She looked more wary than honored. "Still, I need my daughter's help with the laundry. Nessa?"

"Yes, Mama." The elven girl turned to Naia and gave her a small smile. "I should go. Thank you for your company."

"No, thank you. The food was delicious, and we enjoyed your company very much." Naia held her gaze for a few seconds. "Maybe we'll see you later?"

"That would be nice."

Gemma coughed. "We should get going too, Naia. Thank you very much, Nessa. It was good to meet you."

"You too! And good luck." The elven girl waved over her shoulder at them and joined her mother.

"So, should we go and find this Alistair then?" Naia asked, as the pair stood gazing out at the crowded camp. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

"Me neither." Gemma admitted. "But it sounded pretty important that we get this 'Joining' done soon.”

"You'd think Duncan could have at least given us a description, though."

They continued through the camp, passing an archway guarded by two large men in shining silver armor, swords engraved on their breastplates. Beyond them were a small group of men and women in brightly colored floor length robes, all of whom appeared to be engaged in some form of meditation. One of them, standing upright with outstretched arms and long, shimmering black hair rippling down her back, was surrounded by a silver-blue glow that followed her as she moved.

Captivated, Naia crept closer to the arch. She was less than two feet away when one of the guards held a massive, silver-clad arm out to stop her. "The mages are in the Fade, and must not be disturbed."

"I don't want to disturb them." Naia informed him, still staring through the arch.

The man stayed where he was. "Move along, dwarf. There is no place for gawkers here."

Naia made a face at him and turned on her heel. "What's he doing there anyway?"

Gemma hurried to catch up with her. "He's a templar, Naia. Don't you know any of the stories?"

"I know about mages. They use lyrium to focus their magic, so they can do all sorts of insane things. Some of them can even move the earth!"

Gemma nodded. "Pretty much. But the surfacer religion doesn't like the mages running free, so they train warriors to guard them. Those are the Templars, and they have abilities that can stop mages from using magic if they do anything wrong."

Naia kicked at the ground. "That sounds like a stupid idea."

"Why?"

"Well, the Templars have special powers too, right? Who keeps an eye on them?"

"The Chantry does, I guess."

"Those are the priests?" Naia shook her head. "What could they do? Would you want to be an unarmed priest facing down one of those guys?"

"I'm not a priest."

Naia rolled her eyes. "Obviously. How do you know all this stuff, anyways? I thought you hadn't been to the surface before either."

"I haven't. I've just read about it a lot. The palace has a big library."

"I bet it does." Naia looked away. She'd never even learned to read, but she wasn't about to share that with Gemma. When Rica learned as part of her training as a noble hunter, she'd tried to pass on the knowledge, but Naia had never had the patience. She told herself it was a useless skill anyways. When would she ever get the chance to sit down and read a book? It was different for idle nobles, she supposed, but some people had to work for a living. She doubted that Grey Wardens wasted their time with the written word.

They turned up a short, crumbling flight of stairs leading to a raised area, enclosed by the ancient remains of stone walls. Naia tried to imagine how it might have looked, hundreds of years ago when it was new and tall.  The area was large enough to have been some sort of great banquet hall like the ones Rica had spoken of in the Diamond Quarter. Naia wondered what sort of people had gathered here. Duncan had said that Ostagar was a great fortress that had seen many battles, but she knew almost nothing else about the place.

Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of raised voices in front of them. Two men were engaged in heated conversation, one in a long green robe with a staff slung over his back. The other wore splintmail armor of dark steel and an exasperated expression.

The mage jabbed an accusing finger in the other man’s face. “I will not be harassed in this manner!”

The armored man heaved a sigh. “Yes, I was harassing you by delivering a message.”

“Your glibness does you no credit.”  The mage spat.

“Oh, and here I thought we were getting along so well! I was even going to name one of my children after you. The _grumpy_ one.”

“Enough! I will speak with the woman if I must.” The mage spun on his heel and stormed towards Naia and Gemma, knocking them aside as he passed. “Out of my way, fools!”

The remaining man noticed his audience, and gave them a wry smile. “One good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together, don’t you think?”

Naia and Gemma stared.


	5. Into the Wilds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still don't own any of Dragon Age.  
> If anyone has any advice on writing Alistair (or Morrigan, who will be arriving shortly) by all means leave me a comment! I find them very frustrating to voice properly.

Gemma couldn’t think of a single thing to say to this man, and Naia seemed equally speechless for once. The man, who was even taller than Duncan, continued to stare down at them. After a few moments of silence, he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, this is awkward.”

“You are a very strange human.” Gemma managed.

The man laughed. “You know, I don’t think you’re even the first person to say that today. I don’t believe we’ve met. You aren’t more mages, are you?”

Naia gave a short laugh. “Is that a joke? Dwarves can’t be mages.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You can never be sure.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right then. We’ll just go and find someone useful to talk to.” She stalked away, headed for the stairs they’d come up.

“Waaaaait a minute, I do know who you are! You’re Duncan’s new recruits, aren’t you? I should have known.”

Gemma, who had turned to chase after Naia, stopped in her tracks. “Are you Alistair?”

“I am, and I’m afraid I’ve offended your friend. What did I say?”

Gemma looked over her shoulder, but the other girl had already disappeared down the stairs. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Everything offends her.”

“I see. And you are?” He smiled, and Gemma noticed how handsome he was. He had warm brown eyes that went well with his red-blonde hair. His smile was reassuring and he had a neatly trimmed beard that, while nowhere near as impressive as any of the nobles of Orzammar’s facial hair, suited him well.

She returned his smile. “Call me Gemma. My, uh, friend is Naia. Duncan told us find you.”

“Yes, he told me you’d be coming. I’m Alistair, the newest Grey Warden – but you already knew that. Ha. Um…”

She laughed. “You’re supposed to help us prepare for the Joining?”

“ _Right_ , the Joining. What has Duncan told you?”

She sighed. “Next to nothing. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to explain?”

He smiled, but shook his head. “Sorry. Official Warden secrets and all that.”

“That’s what I figured you’d say. Do you think we should meet Duncan?” She asked.

“I think he’s probably ready for us. What about your friend?” Alistair looked around as if he expected Naia to pop out from behind a rock.

Gemma sighed. “I’m sure she can find her own way back. Come on, I want to get this ritual thing over with.”

Despite the hectic air of the army camp, and the daunting prospect of the Joining looming ahead, walking with Alistair was surprisingly enjoyable. Soldiers lounged in front of fires, drinking or polishing armor or sharpening swords, wandering merchants extolled the virtues of their wares (and occasionally insulted each other’s), and camp followers of all sorts wove through the throngs. Despite having grown up in the Diamond Quarter or Orzammar, Gemma was sure she had never seen so many people before in her life. She lost herself and her worries in the crowds and simply took in the sights of Ostagar.  
Alistair himself turned out to be an extremely pleasant companion. The big man was cheerful and friendly, if a bit odd. He quickly learned to match his strides to Gemma’s shorter ones so that she no longer needed to jog to match his pace, and kept up a steady stream of conversation as they walked. From him she learned of the Tranquil, former mages who had been cut off from the Fade, the realm from which they drew their power, and of the enchanted weapons and armor they were able to create. He told her of the “legal” mages who made their home in the Circle Tower, watched over by their templar guardians, and the apostate mages who shunned the knowledge and protection offered by the Circle, and so were hunted. When she asked him how he knew so much about magic, he blushed and ducked his head.

“Actually, if Duncan hadn’t recruited me to join the Wardens, I would have been a templar. I was in training when we met.” He explained.

“You hunted illegal mages?” She looked at him in surprise, unable to imagine this easygoing man as any sort of religious enforcer.

He chuckled. “I told you, I was only in training. I never became full-fledged templar. Thank the Maker.”

“You didn’t like it?”

“Hated it, actually.” Alistair said, smiling.

“The training? What did you have to do?” She asked.

“It was a lot of – mental conditioning, I guess you could say. Learning to resist magic, and eventually to disrupt and counter it. It’s all quite boring, really.” He explained.

“Sounds kind of useful, actually. Do you think you could teach me?” She knew dwarves had no magical ability, but fighting magic was something different altogether. There were darkspawn mages too, and a templar’s abilities would surely work against them as well.

“Er…” Alistair fumbled. “I may not be a templar anymore, but I’m not sure I’m ready to go around revealing Chantry secrets just yet. Although I expect you would be awfully good at it, dwarves being resistant to magic and all.”

Gemma sighed, disappointed but unsurprised.

He gave her a smile. “Sorry to crush your dreams.”

She laughed. “I’m sure I’ll recover from the heartbreak. I’ll bet you’ve never seen a dwarven templar before though. Might have been interesting.”

“Not a single one. Come to think of it, there have never been many dwarven Grey Wardens either. Not many women, either. I wonder why that is?”

Gemma grinned. “Wishing there were a few more women around?”

“No! Er…I mean…” Bright red flared in Alistair’s cheeks. “I wouldn’t have a problem, of course! All I was saying is, well…I’ve never met a female Warden before.”

“And now there will be two of us.” She hoped that the Wardens wouldn’t treat them any differently. None of those she’d met so far had, but she was used to disparaging comments about her gender from the other warriors in Orzammar, and she hoped not to have to endure it in her life as a Warden.

“Yes, I suppose there will be.”

“You don’t think anyone will have a problem with that, do you?”

He shrugged. “The Grey Wardens have never been picky about who they recruit. Criminals, traitors, apostate mages…we’ll take anyone we can get to fight the darkspawn. Which is why it’s so odd that there aren’t many women. If you ask me, recruiting women makes more sense than taking on criminals.”

Gemma raised her eyebrows. “Alistair…”

“No, I didn’t mean – oh Maker I’m terrible at this, aren’t I?”

She laughed, sure that he truly hadn’t meant to be offensive. “Terrible at what? Talking?”

“That, yeah.” He smiled, then looked away quickly. “Aaand there’s Duncan! Just in time to save me from making an even bigger fool of myself.”

The section of the camp occupied by the Grey Wardens was small, no more than two dozen tents clustered around a blazing fire, reaching above even Alistair’s head. Beside it stood Duncan, in soft but heated conversation with a burly man wearing the uniform of the king’s army.

“…as if we weren’t having enough trouble keeping the peace between this many men, now one of your recruits is running around picking pockets! And the king says you Wardens have honor!”

“…assure you, none of my recruits would…”

“Dammit, man, people have seen her! How many tattooed blonde dwarves do you think we have running around the place?” The soldier’s reddened face glowed bright in the light of the fire.

Naia? Gemma glanced over at Alistair, then edged closer, wanting to hear Duncan’s reply.

“I can personally vouch for the honor of my recruits, and I am certain you will have no such trouble in the future.” He caught sight of Gemma and Alistair and waved them over. “Ah! Here are some of them now. If you’ll excuse me?”

The soldier huffed loudly and hurried away, muttering to himself. Duncan smiled at the approaching pair. “Finished riling up mages, Alistair?”  
“I wasn’t–! The revered mother ambushed me!” Alistair protested.

“And she forced you to sass the mage, did she? We cannot afford to antagonize anyone.” The older Warden held up a hand as Alistair opened his mouth to speak. “Never mind, I see you’ve met Gemma. And where are our other recruits?”

Gemma spoke up. “Naia was with us, but she–”

A burst of raucous laughter rang out from nearby and Naia emerged from behind a crumbling stone wall, accompanied by the source of the noise: a tall, gaunt man with unruly dark hair and matching stubble. Seconds later a shorter, wider man in heavy plate armor followed them around the corner.  
“Ah, there they are.” Duncan beckoned the newcomers to join him by the fire. “Naia, I thought you were going with Gemma to find Alistair?”

Naia looked uncomfortable. “I…got distracted.”

Duncan waved a hand dismissively. “Well, we’re all here now. Gemma, this is Ser Jory,” he gestured to the short man, “and Daveth. Naia, this is Alistair.” Duncan waited for the men to give their greetings, then continued. “Now then, since you’re all here, we can begin. You will be heading into the Korcari Wilds to the south to perform two tasks. The first is to obtain four vials of darkspawn blood, one for each recruit.”

Gemma felt as though she were being dragged back down into the Deep Roads, running from darkspawn, killing darkspawn, avoiding the splatters of their foul, tainted blood. She shuddered. “What do we need darkspawn blood for?”

Duncan was solemn. “For the Joining itself. I will explain more once you’ve returned.”

Gemma sent a silent prayer to her ancestors that gathering the blood was merely a test, to ensure that new Grey Wardens were capable of facing darkspawn. Even as she thought it, she remembered Duncan’s words from earlier that day. “Fate may decree that you pay that price now rather than later.” She tore her mind away from that grim statement and forced herself to focus on the present.

“And what’s the second task?” Naia asked, impatient.

“The Grey Wardens once had an outpost in the Wilds, abandoned long ago when we could no longer afford to maintain it. It has recently come to our attention that some scrolls were left behind in the archive, magically sealed for their protection.” He looked at Alistair. “I want you to retrieve them, if you can.”

Naia broke in again before Alistair could respond. “What are these scrolls? Is this part of the ritual too?”

“No, this is not part of your Joining, but I believe you are up to the task. The scrolls are old treaties, promises of support made long ago. Once they were only formalities, but now many have forgotten their oaths. These treaties may serve to remind them.”

“Collect the blood, find the treaties. Got it.” Naia looked entirely unimpressed with this set of tasks. How is she so calm? She was in the Deep Roads too, she must know that darkspawn are a serious threat! And yet she was already elbowing the taller man, Daveth in the side, making some joke. At least Ser Jory looked serious.

Apparently Duncan had similar concerns about his recruits. “Look after your charges, Alistair. Return quickly and safely.”

Alistair straightened up. “We will.”  
“Then may the Maker watch over your path. I will see you when you return.”  
With that, the five of them set out for the edge of the camp, headed into the wilderness to face yet more darkspawn. Gemma wondered if the monsters would be more or less frightening in the sunlight.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Even Grey Wardens won’t be safe in the forest tonight.” The gatekeeper had warned them to be on their guard, but Naia thought the Wilds looked more beautiful than dangerous. Unlike most of wilderness they had tromped through to get to Ostagar, the land here was speckled with pools of varying depths. Most were full of green growth so that the bottoms were nearly invisible, but a few were clear enough that Naia could see small fish darting among the reeds and other plants that adorned the shallow water.

While her companions kept their eyes ahead, ever alert for any signs of trouble, Naia scanned the marshy banks for a white flower with a red center. Or was it a red flower with a white center? Either way, the kennel master had assured her that it was a large, distinctive flower. Surely she would be able to find one. It seemed a silly thing to be thinking about, but at that moment, faced with the idea of risking her life to join the Grey Wardens and then risking her life again in battle, Naia just wanted an attainable goal. Something to focus on in the few moments of peace before inevitable storm that would come with being a Grey Warden.

She’d come across the makeshift kennels shortly after running into Daveth, her fellow recruit. The kennel master was offering a reward to anyone who could bring him a certain flower, an ingredient in a poultice that might help a hound injured in battle. Naia’s immediate reaction had been to wonder why a soldier preparing for battle would go to so much trouble over a dog. There weren’t any dogs in Dust Town, but she knew from Rica that some nobles imported smaller dogs from the surface, mostly as companions for children. She couldn’t imagine they’d be much help against darkspawn. Daveth laughed at her confusion, and the kennel master smiled and led her over to an enclosure behind him. Inside was a monster.

Even lying down, the hound was massive. Looking at the creature, an absurd image of herself riding into battle on his back had popped into her head. Absurd, but entirely possible. Standing up, the dog would surely be larger than she. The kennel master explained that the dog was a mabari, an extremely intelligent breed created by the mages of the old Tevinter Imperium. This dog’s master had died in battle, and the dog had been injured and swallowed darkspawn blood. Something about the animal captured Naia’s attention, and she had agreed to keep an eye out for the flower should she find herself in the Korcari Wilds. And now here she was.

A cry from Jory, who walked at the head of their small group, finally drew Naia away from her search and she hurried to join her companions. Alistair and Gemma were crouched on the ground next to an injured man, tending to his wounds. Daveth and Ser Jory stood nearby. The man told them that he was the sole survivor of a scouting band, attacked by darkspawn while out on a mission.

“We can escort you back to camp, if you’d like.” Gemma offered, once the scout’s wounds had been bandaged.

He shook his head. “No need, it’s not so far now, and I’m sure you have other business. Thank you for helping, and take care in these woods. You don’t want to be out here after dark.”

Alistair nodded. “We will. Maker watch over you.”

“And you.” The man strode off in the direction of the camp, limping but still moving strong. Naia hoped he didn’t encounter any darkspawn on his way back.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Jory turned to the group. “An entire patrol of seasoned men wiped out by darkspawn?” There was a slight hint of panic in his voice.

Alistair stowed the remainder of the bandages in his pack and looked up at the knight. “Calm down, Ser Jory. We’ll be fine as long as we’re careful.”

“Careful? Those soldiers were careful, and they were still overwhelmed! How many darkspawn do you think the five of us can slay? There’s an army in these forests!”

For a knight, he doesn’t seem all that brave, Naia thought. Then she remembered being surrounded by darkspawn on all sides in the Deep Roads, with only Marin’s protective barrier to give the exhausted company a moment’s reprieve, and her own courage failed her. At least on the surface there would be no walls to box them in. Unless we have to go underground to hunt darkspawn, Naia thought, that scout mentioned that they came out of holes in the ground. She wasn’t sure how she felt about a return to the enclosed world she’d been raised in. The surface was strange and often uncomfortable, but there was a certain air of freedom that she’d never experienced in Orzammar, and she was sure the feeling would disappear as soon as she returned to the walls of dirt and stone.

“There are darkspawn about, yes, but we are in no danger of stumbling into the bulk of the horde.” Alistair said, voice calm and steady.

“How do you know? I’m no coward, but this is a foolish endeavor. We should go back.” Jory sounded as if he was ready to turn on his heel and leave right then, with or without the rest of them.

“But what if this is our Joining, Ser Jory?” Gemma asked. “What if the whole point is to find out if we can face darkspawn and survive?”

“Duncan already knows we can kill darkspawn.” Naia pointed out. “We were with him in the Deep Roads!”

Gemma gave her a withering look. “I know that, but I doubt every recruit spends weeks wandering underground before becoming a Warden. Duncan wouldn’t make exceptions for us.”

Alistair sighed. “Listen. All Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn. I can guarantee they won’t take us by surprise. That’s why I’m here.”

“You see, Ser Knight? We might die, but at least we’ll be warned first!” Daveth said lightly, scratching at the thick stubble that covered his chin. Naia chortled.

“Oh, that’s comforting.” Jory replied, sounding not at all comforted.

“Let’s get a move on.” Alistair suggested. “I’m not here to make this easy.”

“What about this do you think is easy?” Jory muttered, but he was the first to follow in the Warden’s path.

They walked on for a short time, letting Alistair lead the way. Gemma fell into conversation with Ser Jory about his family in Redcliffe. Daveth talked of his past as a pickpocket and petty thief in Denerim, claiming that he’d been recruited after cutting Duncan’s purse. Naia wasn’t sure she believed that, but considering how Duncan had recruited her, she supposed the idea of him recruiting a man who had just robbed him really wasn’t all that strange.  
As they approached a small hill edged on either side by water, Alistair held up a hand. “Darkspawn ahead. There aren’t many, but I suggest we go slowly and try to take them by surprise.”

Everyone immediately fell silent. They made their way up the rise as quietly as they could. Naia glared at Ser Jory, whose armor clanked with every step. She was sure even the least intelligent darkspawn could pinpoint their position based on the sound alone. At the top of the hill, the group stayed behind the cover of a few trees and watched a half dozen darkspawn approach on the flat ground below.

“Not much cover down there.” Daveth observed.

“Perhaps we’d be better off engaging them from higher ground?” Jory suggested.

Daveth shrugged, drawing his bow. “Works for me.” He settled an arrow into place, then let it fly towards the creatures below. Naia watched as the missile buried itself in the neck of the nearest darkspawn, impressed despite herself. A cry that made Naia’s stomach twist in recognition rose from the cluster of darkspawn as they charged up the side of the hill. Steeling herself, Naia steadied her axe in her hand and watched their approach, watching for the right time.

Ser Jory drew his sword and charged, intercepting the first of the creatures. “For Ferelden!”

Alistair echoed his cry, while Gemma yelled “Orzammar!” and struck a darkspawn in the chest with her axe as it reached the top of the hill.  
Naia kept silent as she engaged her own opponent, a hurlock as tall as Alistair. Crouching low beneath the darkspawn’s wide swing, Naia slammed the blade of her axe into its knee and was rewarded with a satisfying crunch and a howl of pain. The creature stumbled and dropped, still swinging its sword wildly. Naia dodged behind it and sank her blade into its neck, ignoring the stench of tainted blood and the mixed yells of her allies and their opponents.  
When the battle was done, four recruits and one Grey Warden stood, largely uninjured, among the corpses of six darkspawn. Naia had of course seen darkspawn before, but only in the dimness of the Deep Roads. In the bright sunlight, the creatures were even more monstrous. The twisted bodies of the hurlocks were vaguely the size and shape of men, while the smaller genlocks resembled dwarves in stature, but that was where the similarities began and ended. Their faces were grotesque masks, with their small yellow eyes and slightly protruding snouts, their jaws bursting with finger-length teeth discolored by blood and filth. Their skin, if it could be called that, looked to be saturated with mud and blood, although how much of that was natural and how much was because darkspawn probably weren’t much for bathing, Naia couldn’t be sure.

“So…how are we supposed to collect this blood?” Daveth asked, turning one of the corpses over with his foot.

“Carefully. Use these.” Alistair produced four vials from his pack, one for each of the recruits. “Try not to touch the blood if you can avoid it.”

Naia looked down at herself, already splattered with the blood of her darkspawn opponent. “I think that might be a lost cause.”

Alistair smiled. “As long as you don’t go eating it or get it in any open wounds, you should be fine.”

Naia knelt by the corpse of the hurlock she’d killed, avoiding the puddle of blood formed by her final strike and trying not to breathe in too deeply. “I didn’t escape the Deep Roads just to get tainted up here,” she grumbled. Carefully, grateful for her hardened leather gloves, she filled the vial with blood from the deadly wound. She was relieved when it was full and she could cork the vial and step away from the corpse.

When everyone was finished, Alistair collected the vials and tucked them gently into a protective pouch, which he stowed away. He grinned. “Excellent fight, everyone. Ready for step two?”

“Let’s get it over with. Ancient treaties, here we come.” Naia wiped her axe on a patch of unbloodied grass and strapped it on.

After fighting one battle against the darkspawn, Naia was no longer quite so able to focus her attention on finding the kennel master’s flower. Despite knowing that Alistair would warn them if more darkspawn approached, she found herself turning to look in the direction of every noise. Her concern grew worse as they began to walk amongst old, crumbling walls. So many places they could hide…

It was not until they reached a bridge spanning a long, thin river of water, beyond which Naia could see the outline of what she hoped were the ruins of the Grey Warden outpost, that Alistair raised the alarm once more. Mere seconds later, Naia felt a burst of cold air rush by her face, and turned just in time to see a low hanging branch behind her get frozen solid.

“Naia, get down!” Without looking to see which of her companions had spoken, she dove behind a low stone wall. A searing heat singed the top of her head as another spell missed her by a hair, and she silently thanked whoever had given the warning and saved her from a face full of fire. What luck they had! She knew of darkspawn emissaries, who could command magical power as mages could, but had never encountered one and always hoped to keep it that way.

Cautiously, Naia poked her head over the top of the wall that sheltered her. The emissary now stood at the center of the wooden bridge they’d hoped cross, clutching a staff of burned and twisted wood. Her companions had fanned out in front of the bridge, trying to get close to the emissary, but it backed further away every time one of them approached, throwing spells all the while.

Drawing her axe and keeping her head down, Naia darted out from her sanctuary, moving instead into the shelter provided by a large tree. Arrows flew from somewhere to her right, and she knew Daveth must be firing from somewhere out of sight. Smart, but he was only succeeding in driving the emissary further out of range. Gemma, Alistair, and Jory pressed forward at various angles, blocking spell after spell with their shields. At last, Alistair reached the bridge – but as soon as he set foot on it, four darkspawn pulled themselves up onto the shore and set upon him. They’d been lying in wait beneath the high walls of the river all along.

“Alistair!” Gemma broke into a run as the man stumbled beneath the weight of the darkspawn, and was hit in the side with a blast from the emissary’s staff. Fingers of ice spread from the impact point, freezing her in her tracks. Naia cursed and emerged from behind her tree just in time to see one of the darkspawn holding Alistair slain by Jory’s sword and another take one of Daveth’s arrows in the neck.

Naia ran towards Gemma, keeping every available obstacle between herself and the emissary’s spells, not willing to trust in her dwarven resistance to magic to save her. Before she could reach her frozen companion, cracks appeared in the shell covering Gemma’s body, and the girl broke free with a yell and charged towards Jory and Alistair, who were engaging yet more darkspawn. Meanwhile, the emissary stayed a safe distance away, casting spells and trusting the other darkspawn to act as shields. If only they could get behind it!

The chaos at the bridge grew, as the three warriors engaged darkspawn after darkspawn. If she could just keep out of sight until she reached the bridge, perhaps she could slip across in the confusion and reach the emissary. It was worth a shot, as she certainly wasn’t doing anyone any good on this side of the river. She took a deep breath and began to sprint, head down, keeping herself as small as possible. She lept behind crumbling walls and tree trunks, making her way towards her companions in a steady zig zag. Reaching the bridge and the center of the fight at last, Naia kept close to the ground, swerving between friend and foe and slashing at the legs of the darkspawn in her way.

On the other side of the bridge, Naia stuck to her strategy, moving quietly from shelter to shelter. The direction of the spells flying over her head told her what path to take, and before long she was level with the emissary. It had its back to a high wall, presumably to prevent anyone from sneaking up on it as Naia was trying to do. These darkspawn were clever, but it would not save them, Naia thought. Not if she could get behind that wall. She pressed herself against a tree trunk, considering her options. A ways to her left, there was a break in the walls, where she could easily slip around to the other side. That would do. She took a few deep breaths before bolting for the opening. The emissary noticed nothing as she slid through and began to climb the opposite side of the wall, nimble feet finding many footholds in the ages old stone.

She reached the top of the wall in moments. The battle on the bridge still raged, but there were significantly less darkspawn now. The emissary was to her right. She crawled along the wall until she was directly above it, then dropped onto its shoulders, knocking it to the ground. It squirmed beneath her, reaching for its fallen staff as she raised her axe and brought it down into the creature’s neck. Foul-smelling blood sprayed from the wound and Naia looked away, shielding her face from the poison. Still the darkspawn twitched and she hacked at it again and again, screaming in a mixture of rage and fear, knowing her arms were shaking but not able to stop.

“Naia!”

Daveth was the first to reach her. She looked up at him, eyes glazed. He too was covered in blood. Apparently the darkspawn had found him, wherever he’d been hiding, but he appeared unhurt. He gestured at the darkspawn she still sat atop, and she looked down. She’d severed its head and her axe, which she still held by the grip, was buried in its stump of a neck.

Daveth gave her a small smile. “Naia, my girl, I think it’s dead.”

She nodded, numb, and got to her feet carefully, trying not to slip in puddles of blood. Gemma and the other men weren’t far behind Daveth.  
“Good, you’re alive. I’ll admit, I was getting worried. Anyone injured?” Alistair looked genuinely relieved to see them both in one piece. If he noticed how mangled the emissary’s corpse was, he said nothing.

Luckily, no one was injured too badly. Daveth had a few marks from a dagger, easily bandaged, and Jory, Alistair, and Gemma, were all a bit banged up, but their armor had done its job well. Naia had a long cut from shoulder to elbow from a strike that had cut right through her leather armor. She hadn’t even noticed it until then. Alistair gave her a poultice and some bandages from his pack, and the herbs had a pleasant numbing effect. Their wounds patched, the company paused to take stock of their surroundings. Old and broken though they might be, there were stone walls on every side of them. After a moment, Alistair gave a small shout of laughter.

Naia wondered if he had gone insane. “Care to tell us what you find so amusing?”

“Well, I could be mistaken, but I believe we’ve stumbled into the old outpost Duncan was talking about. The archive should be here somewhere. We can find the papers and head back to camp.” Alistair strode off, through the opening Naia had used to get behind the darkspawn emissary.

“I shall be glad of it” Jory commented, as the others followed Alistair, “I would not like to be out in the wilds at night.”

Daveth clapped him on the shoulder, his hand making a hollow ringing round against the knight’s armor. “Neither would any of us, friend.”

In what remained of the room behind the high wall, they found a large chest, the top of which came up past Naia’s waist. The lid had been split down the middle, and the two halves hung to the sides of the chest.

“Well, that doesn’t look good.” Alistair said, striding forward to pull away the broken lid. He peered inside, and sighed loudly. “Nothing’s ever easy, is it? We’ll have to keep looking, they’ve got to be here somewhere – ”

He broke off as he noticed the wide-eyed stares of his companions. “Guys?”

Gemma pointed. “Um, Alistair?”

The second he’d turned away from the chest, a woman had appeared behind him, seemingly from nowhere. She was tall and slim, her head on level with Alistair’s, and had dark hair pulled up in a messy but elegant bun that made her seem even taller. She wore ragged robes that covered as little of her body as possible without being indecent, and black feathers in her hair and on her arms. She was the most beautiful woman Naia had ever seen…and she did not look at all pleased to see them


	6. Blood

The woman’s golden eyes remained fixed on the small group as she approached. Her gait was leisurely enough that any one of them could have attacked had they not been so mesmerized. She was easily the most unusual looking human Gemma had seen as of yet, and she had an almost hypnotizing quality about her. She carried a staff of twisted black wood on her back, marking her as a mage.

“Well well, what have we here?” The newcomer’s speech was strange, crisp and deliberate as if each word was a carefully aimed dart. It was very unlike the rough, casual speech of the soldiers at Ostagar. “Are you vultures, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since picked?”

In truth, Gemma thought the woman herself resembled a predatory bird: sleek and feathered, with a penetrating gaze that held the lesser beings before her in place despite their danger. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

“Or are you merely an intruder, come to these darkspawn-filled wilds of mine in search of easy prey?”

Gemma gulped, fairly certain that she and her companions were the prey in this situation, not the unknown woman. Something about her was more frightening than even the darkspawn. Gemma kept silent, not sure what she could possibly say to improve their situation.

Naturally, Naia had no such misgivings. “I wasn’t aware this land belonged to anyone!”

Daveth made a face like he was being strangled. “Naia, shh! That’s a Witch of the Wilds, that is! She’ll turn us into toads!”

He spoke in a mutter that was clearly not intended for the witch’s ears, but in the tense silence, his voice carried. The woman laughed. “Witch of the Wilds, am I? Believe as you will. I say only that I know these wilds as only one who is a part of them can. Can you say the same?”

“That doesn’t make them yours.” Naia said, stubborn as ever. “The Grey Wardens once owned this tower.”

The woman waved a hand dismissively. “That name means little here now. I am simply curious as to your intentions in these forgotten ruins.”

“Don’t answer her,” Alistair warned, “Witch or not, she looks Chasind, and that means there are probably others nearby.”

“Ooo, you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?” The woman asked, mocking.

“Yes…swooping is bad.” Alistair replied.

The stranger sighed audibly and turned to Naia. “You there. You do not frighten like a scared little boy. Tell me your name, and I shall tell you mine.”

“I’m Naia.” She smiled mischieviously. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Now that’s a proper greeting. You may call me Morrigan, if you wish. I suppose you came here seeking the contents of that chest? I will tell you they are here no longer.”

“Here no longer?” Alistair asked, before Naia could respond. “Did you take them? You did, didn’t you? You’re some sort of sneaky…witch-thief!”

Morrigan raised a dark eyebrow. “How very eloquent. The owners of this chest are long dead. What use have they for its contents?”

  
“Those documents belong to the Grey Wardens, and I suggest you return them.” He drew himself up in an effort to look threatening.

  
“I will not, for ‘twas not I who removed them. As I have told you, that name means nothing here, and I do not fear it.” Morrigan locked eyes with Alistair, and for a second, Gemma feared she really would turn him into a toad.

  
Naia stepped forward quickly, drawing Morrigan’s attention away from the fumbling Grey Warden. “You say you know this place. Do you know who took the treaties?”

  
Morrigan smiled. “Now there’s a sensible question. ‘Twas my mother, in fact.”

  
“Your mother? Can you take us to her?”

  
“Very direct.” She smiled approvingly. “I like you, and I shall take you to meet my mother, if you wish.” Naia began to speak, and Morrigan raised a finger to cut her off. “But only you are welcome.”

  
“Don’t!” Daveth hissed. “She’ll cook you for dinner!”

  
Morrigan looked directly at Daveth. “She has nothing to fear from me. I have never much cared for the taste of dwarf. Man, on the other hand…”

  
The pickpocket gulped and looked away quickly. Naia coughed into her shoulder, obviously disguising a laugh. “Don’t worry Daveth, I’m too stringy to eat.” She looked at Morrigan. “I’d be happy to join you.”

  
Gemma was not sure they should go along with this plan so easily. She doubted Morrigan was actually going to eat anyone, but there were plenty of reasons not to trust her all the same. “Wait, Naia. Why shouldn’t we all go?”

  
Morrigan gave her a look that said the answer should be obvious. “Would you invite such a large group of armed strangers into your home? All but one of you look at me as if you expect to have the flesh torn from your bones at any moment. I would take the one who has shown only respect.”

  
Odd as it was to have Naia’s blunt approach construed as respectful, it was obvious that Morrigan would not budge on this. Reluctantly, they agreed that allowing Naia to go with Morrigan alone was their best chance of retrieving the treaties. Once the two women disappeared among the trees, the remaining companions settled down to wait, drinking from their water skins and watching nervously for signs of darkspawn or other dangers.

  
“I could try following them.” Daveth suggested, after a moment. “Just to make sure she’s not about to be witch food.”

  
Alistair shook his head. “Best not. If that woman catches you, you and Naia will both be in danger.”

  
Gemma shrugged. “I don’t think she’s going to hurt Naia.” Now that Morrigan was gone and Gemma was able to think clearly again, the woman had seemed more eccentric than dangerous. While she had no doubt that Morrigan could take them all out if she so desired, the fact remained that she hadn’t attacked them, nor even threatened to. Perhaps she had genuinely been curious about their intentions. If she lived out here in the forest, she probably didn’t see anyone besides her mother and the occasional darkspawn.  
“Well, I certainly hope you’re right about that, because we can’t do much for her now.” Alistair sighed.

  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fingers of pink were beginning to creep across the low-hanging sun by the time Naia and Morrigan returned. Gemma lept to her feet upon seeing them approach. Naia was carrying a bundle of scrolls in one hand and a large, oddly colored flower in the other, looking distinctly non-toadlike.

  
“You see?” Morrigan said. “She is unharmed, and I shall guide you back to your camp, if you please. You would not much like these wilds after nightfall.”

  
“I don’t doubt that.” Alistair replied.

  
Naia grinned. “Lead on, Morrigan.”

  
The walk back to the camp seemed much shorter with Morrigan to guide them, and they encountered no trouble. Gemma hoped the lack of darkspawn was due to their guide’s skill, and not because the creatures were massing for attack somewhere else. It was a largely silent walk, as Morrigan encouraged them to keep quiet so as not to attract the attention of anything that might lurk in the shadows. Gemma suspected that the request for silence had more to do with a desire to avoid more talk of witches and toads than any real fear of danger, but she complied all the same.

  
The color had all but vanished from the sky by the time they reached camp. Morrigan disappeared without so much as a goodbye as soon as the fortress was in sight, and Alistair hurried them through the gates and into the light of the Grey Wardens’s fire. Duncan was there, already waiting for them. He accepted the treaties and vials of blood, and listened as Alistair told him of their meeting with Morrigan. When he had finished, Duncan turned to Naia. “So, you travelled with this Morrigan to her home?”

  
Naia bristled, defensive. “Yes. I did. And I got the treaties back, too.”

  
Duncan looked thoughtful. “So you did. My thanks to all of you. Now, I have had the Circle Mages preparing during your absence. With the blood you collected, we can start the Joining immediately.”

  
In the excitement of their journey into the Korcari Wilds, Gemma had been able to push the mysterious Joining from her mind. Now, walking with her companions to a portion of Ostagar that Duncan referred to as “the old temple,” her fears came rushing back. Duncan spoke of the price that must be paid to become a Grey Warden. Naia had assumed he meant the risk of death in the Joining, but Gemma suspected there was more. Duncan said that all Wardens paid the price – including those who survived. She wondered what that meant. What hidden burdens were Duncan and Alistair keeping quiet? What secret did the Wardens keep even closer than the risk of death?

  
Duncan had not yet arrived when Alistair and the recruits reached the old temple. Gemma wasn’t sure how much more waiting she could stand – or how much more of Jory and Daveth’s bickering she could endure before the urge to knock them both over the head with her shield became irresistable.

  
“The more I hear of this Joining, the less I like it.” Jory was saying.

  
Daveth threw him a disdainful look. “Are you blubbering again? I thought you were supposed to be brave and strong, Ser Knight. Can’t handle the pressure?”

  
Jory ignored him, and addressed Alistair, who was watching for Duncan with his back turned to the others. “Why all these damned tests? Haven’t I earned my place?”

  
“Maybe they’re just trying to annoy you.” Daveth said, dryly. “It’s what I’d do.”

  
Naia spun around to glare at them. “Will you two stop it? Seriously, how pathetic can you get?”

  
Jory glared right back. “My wife is in Highever with a child on the way! If they’d warned me – ”

  
“You would have refused to come, right? Ever think maybe that’s why Duncan didn’t warn you?” Naia shook her head, exasperated.

  
“The Wardens do what they must, right?” Daveth added.

  
“Including sacrificing us?” Jory demanded.

  
“I’d sacrifice a lot more to end the Blight.” Daveth’s voice was softer now, and his face was set, determined. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t die to protect your wife from those darkspawn? Your child?”

  
Gemma looked at him in surprise. _And who are you protecting, Daveth?_

  
Jory looked away. “Of course I would. I only wish there was another way.”

  
Alistair turned around at last. “As do we all, Ser Jory.”

  
It was then that Duncan arrived. He looked around at each of them in turn, dark face stern, but somehow reassuring. “And so we come to the Joining. You have each had your own journeys to bring you here, and this is but the next step. The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when all races stood on the verge of annihilation. You represent two of those races, and follow in the tradition of the Wardens who came before you.”

  
Duncan motioned to Alistair, who brought forth a large, silver wrought goblet and handed it to his mentor. “In that darkest hour, the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood and mastered the taint it carries.”

  
For a moment, there was silence. Duncan stood beside an old, crumbling alter, cradling the goblet in both armored hands. Alistair was at his side, hands clasped behind his back, looking at the four recruits with a solemnity that Gemma would not have expected from the good spirited human. Gemma herself felt as though time had frozen. Drink the blood. Master the darkspawn taint. Duncan’s words ran through her mind, chasing all else away. She felt sick. All that time in the Deep Roads, fighting for her life, praying to her ancestors that she would not fall victim to the darkspawn’s poison…and here she was, expected to take it willingly into her body. Restrained tears made her eyes prickle. _It was all for nothing. I survived for nothing._

  
“We’re going to drink the blood of those…creatures?” Jory’s voice was steady, but he was obviously making a great effort to keep it so.

  
Duncan nodded, striding towards him. “As the first Grey Wardens did before us, and as we did before you. This is the source of our power and our victory.”

  
“Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint. We can sense it in the darkspawn and use it to slay the archdemon” Alistair explained.

  
Jory shook his head. “Those who survive…” He muttered.

  
“Not all who drink the blood will survive, and those who do will be forever changed. This is why the Joining is a secret. This is our price.” Duncan’s voice was low, and not unkind. “We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but those words have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would?”

  
The younger Warden stepped forward. “Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice shall not be forgotten, and that one day we shall join you.”

  
The words calmed the panic rising in Gemma’s breath. _This is what I came here to do. I survived my brother’s plots, I survived the Deep Roads. I will survive this._

  
Duncan nodded at Alistair in approval. “Daveth, step forward.”

  
Without even a backwards glance, the man met Duncan in front of the alter. He took the goblet from his hands, and drank deeply.

  
For a moment, all was still and nothing changed.

  
Then Daveth doubled over, clutching at his forehead, and began to convulse, his body thrashing painfully. Gemma thought she could see something move under his skin, a ripple of flesh rising through him. He fell, caught himself briefly on unsteady arms, threw his head back…and opened his eyes. Blank, white eyes, staring and not seeing at Duncan, whom he had trusted. Duncan, who had handed him death in a gilded cup. Then it was over and he crumpled, lifeless, to the stone floor.

  
Duncan’s face did not change. “I am sorry, Daveth. Step forward, Jory.”

  
Jory backed away, hand going to the hilt of his sword. “I have a wife! A child! Had I known–!”

  
Duncan handed the goblet to Alistair and advanced towards the knight. “There is no turning back.”

  
“No! You ask too much!” Jory drew his sword, swung it wildly at the advancing Grey Warden….and then he too fell, Duncan’s sword in his stomach. Duncan supported his body for a moment, before withdrawing his sword and letting Ser Jory fall to the ground. “I am sorry, Jory.”

  
Gemma started towards the fallen man. “Jory!”

  
Alistair stepped in front of her, tall and silent, and shook his head. Duncan looked around at his remaining recruits. “The Joining is not yet complete. Naia, step forward.”

  
Naia looked at Gemma and Alistair, who returned to Duncan’s side to hand him the goblet. She looked at the two men who had been her companions, though she had known them only a day. Then she went to Duncan, and held out her hands.

  
The goblet looked almost too big for her to hold, its cup nearly large enough to drown in. She stood looking into it for a moment and then turned, eyes locking on Gemma once more. “Aeducan. If I don’t…if…well…” She took a breath, composed herself. “Make sure my sister knows I didn’t die the way I lived. Make sure she knows that I…that I tried. For her.”

  
There was something in those defiant grey eyes that Gemma had never seen before. There was pride, and resolution, but also acceptance. This girl, this Dust Town criminal, who had always been so unfeeling, so careless…she was willing to die for this. To try and make things right. _There really is more to her. I hope I have the chance to see it._

“I will.” Gemma placed a hand over her heart. “I swear it.”

  
Naia nodded, and drank.

  
She dropped to her knees, body wracked with the same spasms that had taken Daveth. Gemma’s heart lept into her throat as Naia’s palms hit the stone floor, head hanging limp between them. Her skin too rippled as though something moved beneath it, and she opened her mouth and cried out a hoarse, wordless scream. Then her arms gave out and she lay limp on the ground.

  
The tears that had threatened since the beginning of the ritual dripped from Gemma’s eyes. She did move from her place, did not try and go to the last of her companions. She waited for Duncan to apologize, to confirm Naia’s death.

  
“From this moment on, Naia Brosca, you are a Grey Warden.” Duncan said, standing over the girl’s lifeless form.

  
Gemma was startled from her silence. “She’s alive?”

  
A small smile played about the Warden’s lips. “There will be no need for you to carry any messages to Orzammar. Naia lives.”

  
Strength flowed back into Gemma’s limbs, and when Duncan bid her step forward, she found she could move. She accepted the cup, thinking of her companions.

  
Duncan, who had saved her from certain death at the hands of the darkspawn, and offered her a chance to help her people and her world, despite the risk of death.

  
Alistair, who had guided them through the wilds and fought at her side.

  
Daveth, the boldpickpocket who had been willing to sacrifice his life without question, if it would help save his land from the Blight.

  
Jory, the brave knight for whom the wrong path was chosen.

  
And Naia, who was on her way to proving every noble in Orzammar wrong about the casteless, who was every bit as worthy as any highborn Gemma had ever met, and perhaps more so. Naia who, if Gemma survived, would be her companion and ally against the darkspwan threat. Who might even, one day, be her friend.

  
Holding their names close like a protective ward, Gemma drank.


End file.
